Harry Potter and the Two Self Inserts
by otp-riddikuli
Summary: Celebrities with secret lives, ordinary girls with speshul powahz, weird pairings at every turn, gratuitous crossover slash, a toddler, Goth!Hermione, and the Dark Lord Superstar. Seventh year goes completely awry. Egregious butchery of HBP.
1. The Special Fourteen Hour Pilot

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and story elements associated with the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling; all characters, locations, and story elements associated with _The Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (or to his estate, anyway).

* * *

Nasus walked through the doors of the cafe, making everyone look up at her. Though no one could see them, her stretch marks felt painfully obvious from being preggo. Her short dark hair, in great need of a dye job was way too frizzy after walking through the rain the night before. She hadn't had time to shower as said child, not wanting to go in to the cafe right now because of the puddles and his need to stomp into them, had tried eating the cat and made her forget. 

And Hajile Wood ran over. "Oh dear! Are you having trouble?" he asked her. Nasus looked to him with her incredibly normal brown eyes.

"OH! You're Hajile Wood!"

"No. I'm in _love _."

* * *

Eiram nearly jumped out of her chair when the doorbell rang; she hadn't bothered to bathe in the last several days (it might have been a week; she had lost count). She was taking a breakup badly and it's not like there was anyone to bathe for--unless, oh dear god, _he_ had gotten on a plane and flown over the ocean to Germany to apologize and beg her to please oh please come back and maybe marry him and get a pet rabbit. And there she was, in the same pajamas she had been wearing since her last shower, her long black hair in tangles and only saved from its usual frizz by the accumulation of oil, her face marred by both lines and acne she had been scratching. 

The doorbell rang again. At least she had done the dishes, but the bed hadn't been made since...she hadn't even washed the sheets in a month, and--arrrgh! The toilet! She would have to pretend to have to go as soon as she let him in.

She turned out all the lights, to make it look like she had just been sleeping, rather than wallowing in squalor, and took a deep breath. She opened the door.

It was not him. It was Jeordie Wonderland. Only he was still Twiggy Ramone, but without all the drugs or, for that matter, Marianne Manson lurking nearby.

"Eiram," he said.

"Gluh?" she said, blinking very hard.

"I saw you in the crowd at the first Seven Inch Staples show in London. I saw you again when we played in Berlin and had a roadie follow you home. He checked your mailbox, found your name, discovered through his 1337 !-!4xXx0r ski11z, by way of your IP, your userid on LiveJournal--and that one of your interests is..._me_. I don't know how I knew, but I _knew_. Forget this fool who let you go. We are soulmates, you and I. We are OTP. I need you with me always."

* * *

The next day 

Nasus WOULD have been able to take a shower if her husband hadn't used up the five gallons worth of hot water washing a few cups. Damn it all! Her romantic date with Hajile was in less than ten minutes!

Dousing herself in heaps of baby powder and half a bottle of Febreez, she promptly stepped in a huge pile of cat droppings placed in front of the toilet. Using ice cold water and an old toothbrush, she scrubbed until her foot turned red. Five minutes now, good LORD! She finsihed up, sighing as she looked into the mirror. Wait- what was that blond head of hair just behind her-OH DEAR GOD NO!

After getting the cat poo out from under her son's fingernails, the doorbell rang. Her Red Sox t-shirt #45 (Pedro wasn't even on the damned TEAM anymore, WHY did she WEAR this SHIRT!) had mustard stains from her son's expertise at eating hot dogs, so she frantically scraped it with her fingernails. "Honey, please get the door!" she called, running back into the bathroom in a panic. Her husband Ybbuh got the door.

She heard the conversation; "Hello! Is my date ready?"

"She'll be along. Would you like something to drink? I washed a few cups today."

"Fantastic! What do you have?"

"Um... really old Kool Aid, about a quarter cup of milk, coffee that's been sitting in the pot for about 24 hours, and some Strega."

"I was HOPING you had only a tiny bit of milk! I'm lactose intolerant, and I get this HUGE urge to drink lots of milk. I love it! I'll have milk, please,"

Nasus heard the drip-drips of Hajile's chosen beverage drop into the washed cup. Without realizing it, she threw on a dress from the five-foot-tall pile of clothes she'd been digging through, not realizing a cat had come along and peed upon it as she'd thrown it on the floor to be considered.

* * *

Eiram blinked again and slammed the door in Twiggy's face. She hurled herself into the bathroom, nearly tore the lid off the toilet seat and flung the scrub brush into the hall in her haste to pull it from its stand. She crawled on all fours to retrieve it and scrambled to her feet to return to the bathroom. Dumping the entire bottle of Mr. Proper into the toilet, she scrubbed madly. 

The doorbell rang.

"Eiram!" Twiggy called through the door. "I love you! Please let me in!"

"Just...just..." she called back, trying to replace the scrub brush, missing several times, and dribbling soapy water all over the floor. "One minute, please!"

She swiped up the puddle with her slippers, then threw them into the shower. She caught sight of her reflection. Fortunately the mirror was high and showed only her face, which was quite bad enough. She scrubbed it with a dry washcloth and threw this into the shower after her slippers.

There was no time to change--there was no time to _shave_--there was no time to do _anything_... She clawed at the medicine cabinet, scrabbled for mouthwash, swigged from the bottle, blue trails running down her chin. The cap refused to fit back onto the bottle, so she threw both of them into the shower, too.

"What else?" she said, frantic. "There has to be something!"

Deodorant! Knowing there would be no point, she threw its cap directly into the shower, swiped under her arms with all her might, and dropped the stick into the trash. She yanked the shower curtain into place as she made her way to the door. She took another deep breath, smoothed her pajama top, opened the door again.

"Eiram," said Twiggy, and took her hand. Her fingers were tinted orange from nicotine and she had earwax under her nails.

* * *

Nasus drove along, staring straight ahead to avoid seeing the unwrapped Ho-Ho Hajile had unknowingly sat upon sticking out from under his perfect delicious ass. 

"So," he said, looking to Nasus with a look of love. "I'm glad we're able to spend this time together. Ever since running into you in the cafe near your hometown, where I just happened to be at that moment, I feel like..." he drifted off. A single tear went down his cheek; Nasus didn't really notice, as she was still trying to keep her eyes away from the oozing cream filling that was now reaching Hajile's sneaker.

"I know, Hajile. I can't help but think that... that the fates brought us OOHWOOHOO-HACK-COUGH-SPLUTTER..." Nasus was completely interrupted by wrongly-inhaled smoke. Hajile grabbed the wheel and swung the car over to the right, nearly killing an entire family of Ukrainians waiting for the bus in front of the Stop&Shop.

"Nasus!" he cried out. "Nasus, are you all right?"

"Yea..." she irked out, rubbing her watery eyes. "Just... smoke."

"Oh..." Hajile murmured, easing. "I thought... oh my good LORD, I thought I'd LOST you!" he wailed, grabbing onto Nasus tight. The older man of the family outside was walking over. As he began shouting and pounding on the window, Hajile grabbed Nasus' chin and began kissing her wildly. The combined scent of cat pee and the squished Ho-Ho must have turned them both on...

* * *

Eiram tried to smile without showing any teeth; the mouthwash would have done little to remedy her dire need of flossing, and, moreover, her gums had receded horribly in the past year, leaving black lines in their wake. 

"Please," said Twiggy, glancing over his shoulder, "may I come in?"

Eiram winced, thinking of the several bags of trash she had not taken to the dumpster, and nodded weakly, but she stood aside and let him enter. With another glance over his shoulder, Twiggy stepped in.

"We don't have much time," he said. "Lock the door."

She closed it and turned the key, all the while wondering how to keep her pajamas on. She hadn't plucked any of her rogue hairs lately, and she could not face the idea of being caught with them.

Twiggy, meanwhile, was scanning the cupboards in the hall. "Is this your closet?" he asked, grasping the knob.

"Er, yes," she said, thinking that her dresses probably would not fit him; she had not brought any babydolls to Germany.

He opened the closet and was promptly buried in an avalanche of dirty clothes. She had not done laundry in a while. He tossed aside a few garments and began searching through the pile.

"Where is your coat?" he asked. "You need a coat. It's cold out."

"It's on the other side of the closet," she said in a small voice, horrified that he meant to take her somewhere in her current state. On the other hand, at least she would not have to worry about exposing anything embarrassing just yet. She slipped into the bathroom to pocket her tweezers while Twiggy negotiated a path through her jeans and sweatshirts to fetch her coat.

* * *

Hajile was crying mercilessly as the police officer brought Nasus back; in her haste and panic back home while getting ready for Hajile, she had forgotten that she hadn't had a valid driver's license for the last four years. When the Ukrainian man called the police there, Hajile had tried his best, grabbing the handcuffs from the officer's belt and latching himself to Nasus. "You won't take her, not without me!" The officer sighed with exasperation and simply took out his key and unlocked them with ease. 

Now that he had posted bail and nearly had the woman behind the clerk's counter ready to call the Fowler Wing of Noble Hospital, Nasus was back in Hajile's arms. "I was so scared!" he cried desperately into her hair. "I'd told them, over and over again... 'name your price! I don't care if her bail is thousands upon thousands!'" he lamented.

"How much was it?" Nasus asked. He sniffled.

"Twenty five."

They now left the police station, collecting her papers for her court appearance that next Monday. Hajile eyed them suspiciously before taking her hand. "Darling," he said. "I fear for you. If they take you to jail I'll... I don't KNOW what I'll do! I know- I have a private jet! We can escape together!"

"But... my husband, my son-"

"We'll take them too!"

Nasus began to weep, but her tears were happy ones. She tore the papers in her hands apart and scattered them around like confetti.

* * *

Twiggy cast his gaze around the hall and lit upon her running shoes, which were crusted in mud from hiking a month earlier. He grabbed them and thrust them into her hands. Wordlessly she knelt to put them on. He dropped to his knees and tied the laces almost before she could get her feet into the shoes. 

"What is it?" she asked, sensing his anxiety. "Where are we going?"

"I'll explain on the way," he said.

He stood and took her hand once more. "Whatever happens," he said, peering through her filthy glasses, "I want you to know that I love you."

"Whatev--" Eiram said, beginning to worry that she was going to be left in a parking lot, in her pajamas, watching as his tour bus drove off into the sunset.

And then he kissed her.

Dazed, she let him drag her out of the apartment, and into the corridor.

A tall, deathly-thin figure appeared before them, a man with sickly white skin and eyes glowing red. "Twiggy!" he said. "You hope to escape me?"

* * *

"'Nasus Emal was supposed to show up in court for her arraignment today, this after the famous, incredibly gorgeous and boyish blue eyed embodiment of pure sex Hajile Wood bailed her out of jail." the newsreporter said into the camera of 22News, Springfield Mass. "But it is rumored that they fled the country together to avoid her having to spend the next two months on a very lienient probation..." 

"Ahhh! Lienient INDEED!" Hajile triumphantly yelled to the TV as he poured Nasus, Ybbuh and himself a glass of champagne. Nasus and Ybbuh's son toddled over to Hajile and wrapped his chubby arms around Hajile's waist.

"Unkie Lijah! Wuv oo!"

Nasus felt a lone tear slide down her face. "He hasn't spoken... until now! it's a miracle!" she cried out as Hajile laughed, picking up the cherub faced angel boy up and twirling him around.

"We shall be landing in England in around a half hour," the captain announced over the intercom. "Please buckle your safety belts."

* * *

"Of course not, Lord Voldemort," said Twiggy. "But, as you know, Harry has never trusted me, and it has become impossible for me to continue as I have been. I have, therefore, recruited an accomplice to take my place, both at Hogwarts and in the Order." 

"And this is your replacement?" said Voldemort, gesturing at Eiram, who had no idea what the fuck was going on.

"She is, my Lord," Twiggy said. "Her name is Eiram Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" Voldemort threw back his head and laughed. "And you trust her?"

"She has no knowledge of her background, Lord, no knowledge that the Wizarding World even exists. And she belongs completely to me. She will do as I require."

"The fools will embrace her for her name alone," said Voldemort. "You have done well, my Twiglet."

"I serve you in all things, Lord," said Twiggy. "I am taking her even now to Spinner's End to prepare her."

"Go, then." Voldemort nodded. "And do not forget that I need you to write the music for that new song by the end of the week."

* * *

The four fugitives of justice entered King's Cross, where Nasus ran around like a moron looking for the entrance to platform 9 3/4. Hajile and Ybbuh laughed. "My silly wife!" Ybbuh said. 

"My silly lover!" Hajile exclaimed.

"Silly Momma!" Mr. Melon chuckled out. Nasus heard none of this as she finally came across the platform's wall.

"I wonder if I'll go to Hogwarts! Oh how silly would it be if whoa!"

"NASUS!" Ybbuh and Hajile yelled out as she disappeared into the cement column. OMG LYK NO WAY!11!1 Nasus lyk TOTALLY went through 9 and 3/4! Ybbuh grabbed Mr. Melon and he and Hajile ran straight through the column, finding Nasus on the other side.

"Where are we?" Hajile said in awe, looking around. Nasus flipped her stringy hair from her face, itching the inside of her nose and looking like she was picking it.

"We're... we're at the Hogwarts Express!" she cried out. All their jaws dropped.

"Will they notice us?" Hajile asked. Before anyone could answer this, Hagrid showed up. He was there! He was so HUGE!

"Right then, onto the train wit' ye!" he told them, shoving them aboard. Wow! They were going to Hogwarts!

* * *

Voldemort disappeared with a rush of air shrieking, as it filled the space where he had been, like the feedback of a downtuned guitar. 

Eiram blinked very hard several times and turned to Twiggy.

She stared at him for a moment.

She stared at him for a moment longer.

She stared at him for another moment.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Twiggy waited patiently.

She tilted her head to the side, hoping it would help her think. It did not.

"Gluh?" she asked, giving up.

"We have to go," said Twiggy. "Take my arm and hold tight."

Eiram was, at this point in her life, quite glad for any sort of direction. She took his arm. She held tight. Twiggy reached into a pocket with his free hand and drew--

Was that a _wand_?

Before she could think too much about it, however, she felt a wrench in her stomach and the corridor fell out of view.

* * *

"WOW! LOOK!" Ybbuh yelled. 

Hajile and Nasus looked out the window of their train compartment, seeing the large castle of Hogwarts coming into view. "I can't believe this is real!" Nasus exclaimed, hoping that that awful soup-like smell wasn't her.

"It's real, all right, or my name isn't Hajile Jordan Wood!"

"HAJILE JORDAN WOOD?"

All of them looked into the doorway of the compartment, finding Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger! WOW! "WOW!" they all exclaimed.

"You're Frodo!" Ron gasped out. Hermione flipped her newly black hair, nearly getting caught in the chain that led to the nose ring she had. As she made eyes at Hajile, Nasus growled.

"How are ya?" she asked him, twirling a long lock of hair between her fingers. That rotten gothpunkedoutOOC!Hermione! How dare she try to shmooze up on Nasus' lover!

"Wow! I've seen all your movies!" Harry said excitedly, sitting next to Hajile. "Wow, it smells like soup in here!"

* * *

When the world stopped and her viscera settled into place, Eiram opened her eyes. They were in a dusty room with boarded windows. She was afraid to move. 

"_Lumo_" said Twiggy, and the tip of his...his _wand_ glowed brightly enough to illuminate the room. It was some sort of shop, and it had been abandoned in a hurry.

"Ollivander's," Twiggy said. "His is were the best wands. He must have left some behind. Hopefully one of them will suit you."

She started to ask who Ollivander was and where he had gone and why he had left in such a rush. "Wait, _what_?" she asked instead. "Suit _me_?"

"Yes." Twiggy was already collecting the narrow boxes scattered on the shelves behind the counter. "A wand is most effective if it chooses the Witch, and you need an effective wand."

"Witch?" said Eiram, noting the tinge of hysteria in her voice.

Twiggy set an armload of boxes on the counter and looked at her. "You are a Witch, Eiram," he said. "You happen to be the daughter of the most powerful Wizard of our time."

"My father is dead," said Eiram, not knowing what else to say.

"He is now," said Twiggy, looking away. "But that is recent."

"No, he died before I was born," said Eiram. "My mother never got over it."

"Your mother was Obliviated and her memory of your father replaced. It was important that no one know who you were. For the same reason, you were raised a Muggle. But you are a Witch, and, right now, we need to find you a wand." He picked up a box and tossed it to her. "Try that one."

* * *

They all walked into the corridors of Hogwarts together, everyone making hushed whispers of the new faces. Hajile had been recognized about forty times already; twenty two of those times being just Hermione. "Do you like my tat? It's the Chinese symbol for "Slut"," "Hajile, can you itch my lower back?" "Show me that AWESOME tat of the "9" in Elvish on your hip..." 

Hajile had refused each request, his arm slung over Nasus and smiling at her. He only had eyes for her.

"Welcome everyone." Dumblldoor greeted them as they all sat in the really big eating room. "It seems we have new students this year! Welcome!"

"We're transfer students, from America," Nasus proclaimed, walking up to the head table proudly. Everyone watched her soupy form going to the Sorting Hat.

"GRYFINDOOR!" it yelled instantly. YAY!

"GRYFINDER!" it yelled for Hajile. YAY!

"GRIFONDORE!" it yelled for Ybbuh. YAY!

"SLITHERINE!" it yelled for Mr. Melon. YA-

"WHAT?" all three of the new students yelled out. Mr. Melon walked over to his table cheerfully.

* * *

Twiggy hustled Eiram through a secret postern in the castle and hurried her through a series of dark passages. They had Apparated from Ollivander's into the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just outside the school's grounds. Twiggy had first Scourgified her and then Transfigured her pajamas into dark robes. She still did not look Goth. She did not even look like she was wearing all black, though she was. She clutched her new wand; although it made no more sense to her than anything else, it was warm and somewhat reassuring. They reached a pair of stone gargoyles and stopped. 

"Marzipankartoffel," said Twiggy.

The gargoyles swung aside and revealed a spiral staircase. Twiggy gestured for her to enter, and followed close behind. They emerged in a bright chamber filled with..._stuff_ and hung with portraits of men and women who all...sat up straight and looked intently at Eiram as she entered.

"Twiggy?" she said, quietly. "Those pictures _are_ actually staring at me, right?"

"Yes," he replied. "It's okay. They've been looking forward to meeting you."

She decided not to ask.

"Especially him." There was a man seated at a desk in the center of the room. He was pointing at one of the portraits, a cheerful old fellow with a long white beard and twinkling eyes, who very definitely looked like a Wizard.

"My dear girl," said the portrait. "It is such a pleasure to see you at last!"

"That's your father," whispered Twiggy. "Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh," said Eiram. "Excuse me, my paradigm just shifted."

"Not to worry, my girl," said the portrait. "In time you will understand everything. But, speaking of time, I believe my successor was growing a bit concerned with your whereabouts."

"Indeed," said the man behind the desk. "We expected you an hour ago."

"We ran into Voldemort," said Twiggy. "He grows as suspicious of me as Harry and he followed me. Also...Eiram was rather unprepared for dinner when I found her."

"No matter," said the man, rising. He was very short. "You've only missed the Sorting. I'll escort her into the Great Hall and Moody can introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after dinner."

"Do you think the students suspect anything?" asked Twiggy.

"I would have worried about Miss Granger," said the man, "but she changed over the summer. Unfortunately, thanks to the nature of the change, she knows all too well who I am, though she has no idea that I've taken over as Headmaster and that 'Dumblldoor' is actually Moody."

"You had better be careful, Trent," said Twiggy. "She may very well stalk you wherever you go and pick up on _something_."

"Be careful yourself, Twiggy. She would recognize you if she caught so much as a glimpse."

"I won't let that happen."

"Gentlemen," said Dumbledore's portrait. "Miss Dumbledore might perhaps enjoy some dinner while it remains on the tables."

"Apologies," Trent said to Eiram. "Please come with me."

* * *

Dumblrdord left the cafeteria, looking hassled. An owl had flown to him with a small rolled up paper, distracting Ybbuh, Hajile and Nasus from their meals. 

"WOW! That was so cool!" Hajile said, watching as Dumbelder read the letter. He walked out after that.

After dinner, Professor MacDonalouge led the three of them to their dormitory. It was near Gryffindor, but since they were all much older than the other students, they arranged a special room for them. A portrait of a chicken squawked at them from where they stood facing the portrait hole. "The password is 'Fizzgig'," she told them sternly. "Don't forget that,"

"Professor McDurmstrang!" Nasus suddenly cried out. "My son... he's only two years old, and he's been put in Slytherin! Why has that happened?"

Professor McHamburglar sighed deeply. "We do not choose our houses, Miss Nasus," she went to explain. "The Sorting Hat puts us where it knows we belong."

"But Slitherin! It's an evil house! There isn't anything REMOTELY good about it! I mean, Malfoy is there! What if he corrupts our son?" Ybbuh said in desperation. Professor MacDougal pursed her lips.

"When we'd heard you were to be sepearated house-wise from your young son, we dug a tunnel connecting your private quarters to Slythrin," she told them; all three of them let out a sigh of relief. "But you are ONLY to use the passageway during the days which have a 'T' and a 'F' in them. Professor Dumblydarn said it is to be so."

"All right,"

She then left them to go into their dorm. Nasus had instantly forgotten the password, as did Hajile.

"MELLON!" he yelled at it. Ybbuh shook his head.

"Fizzgig," he muttered, letting the door fall wide open.

* * *

"Fistfuck!" said Trent, as the students poured out of the Great Hall and sought their dormitories. "We missed dinner." 

They returned to his office. Twiggy was already gone, but two covered dishes were waiting on Trent's desk. The portraits were sleeping.

"Well," said Trent, "at any rate, we may eat at our leisure, and we do have the opportunity to discuss the many matters which I am sure need something in the way of clarification."

* * *

Hajile and Nasus were feeding each other strawberries drenched with champagne. Nasus had knocked over the bottle twice already, but Hajile simply laughed. "You're so beautiful," he told her for no real reason whatsoever. 

"No, Hajile. No... I'm not," she said with great woe. "I smell bad and I need a shower."

"So do I," he said, though Nasus highly doubted that Hajile could be anything less than perfect. In fact, he still smelled of his shampoo and freshly washed skin. He was just trying to make her feel better. "How about we bathe together in our private, enormous bathroom?"

"Oh, YES," Nasus said. She went with him to the gold-encased doorway leading into the bathroom and handed their clothes to the private attendant.

Hajile washed her hair, getting his fingers stuck constantly in the matted strands. He tried at first to comb them out gently, but Nasus told him to just get it overwith and pull the holy hell out of it.

Three pounds of hair later, they sat together on the small couch. "Oh Hajile," she cooed, snuggling into his chest. As wonderfully wonderful beautiful as it was to be close to him, her arm was getting crunched between him and the couch. Swallowing past the numbing sensation of her awkward position, she continued. "I can't believe we're here. We're at Hogwarts to learn magic!"

"I know. It's unbelievable!"

"I... I love you Hajile,"

Hajile's eyes welled with tears, holding her closer. Now she was starting to lose her breath with his hold; while it wasn't very tight, the already strange position she was in caused enough discomfort already. His backbone pressed into her hand, crushing her fingers together. "I love you too... I've... felt it since we met,"

"Nungh,"

* * *

Eiram was following Minerva McGonagall to her chambers. Her head was spinning. Muggles, Witches, Wizards, wands, Hogwarts, dead Headmasters who were her father, secret Headmasters who were Trent Ronzer, disguised Headmasters who were misspelled, and tomorrow she was expected to begin teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, which she had not even known existed that morning. 

She had thought it perfectly impossible enough that Twiggy Ramone had come to her door.

And Twiggy... Twiggy, whose real name she had always believed to be Jeordie Wonderland, was in fact Severus Snape, who had disappeared from the Wizarding World. Severus had been forced to recover his Twiggy persona because as Jeordie he looked too much like himself in Muggle clothing.

And that terrifying ghoul at the elevator...

She couldn't think anymore. She needed to sleep. Perhaps she would wake up back in her apartment, unbathed and broken-hearted and relieved, really, that things were still as she expected them to be. If they were, she promised herself she would take a shower and put in a load of laundry.

Minerva stopped outside a heavy oaken door and handed her an iron key. "Here we are, then, Eiram," she said. "Everything should be in order, at least to get you through the night. I expect you could use some rest, so I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you," said Eiram, wanting very much to ask Minerva to come in for a bit, but the Witch's tone did not invite an invitation. She had clearly come from her own bed to guide Eiram through the castle.

Minerva left and Eiram fitted the key into the lock. As the door swung open, she realized why Minerva had not lingered.

Twiggy was waiting for her.

* * *

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" 

Nasus opened her eyes, finding Ybbuh towering over her. Looking to her left, Hajile sat sipping some coffee and looking to Ybbuh with bewilderment.

"Oh, hello Ybbuh!" Hajile said. "Would you like some chai tea? Made it myself, crushed the ginger fresh this morn-"

"What EXACTLY have you been doing with MY WIFE?" Ybbuh shrieked. Both Nasus and Hajile looked at each other.

"Oh! Well, we'd taken a bath then made sweet, sweet love into the wee hours of the morning-" Hajile went to explain, making Ybbuh gawk.

"WHAT?"

"Darling," Nasus now spoke, her hair sticking up at all ends like a cactus. "We have an open relationship, remember?"

"YEA but... I never would have DREAMED that you would have gone for THIS creep!" Ybbuh yelled, waving a hand towards Hajile dramatically.

"Urm... what about the last two years of my fangirling over this very much here and now Hajile Wood did you NOT register?" Nasus said incredulously.

"I thought that was just a phase!" Ybbuh yelled; he turned his attentions back to Hajile again, growing red in the face. "She thought you were gay, y'now! Even wrote stories about you getting shtooped by Josh Hardknot, Dom Manowar, not to MENTION the sheer VOLUMES of hobbit porn! Do you even want to KNOW how many times she had "Mr. Frodo" getting banged through the mattress by Sam?"

"OH!" Hajile said, laughing. "Well, those events DID occur, yes, but I'm bi,"

Ybbuh spluttered. "THAT'S IT! I'm LEAVING you two to your den of iniquity and sin!" he cried. "I'm demanding that I get switched to a new house!" and with that, he stormed out of the dormitory. Nasus watched him go, biting her lip.

"Ow,"

"What?"

"I bit my damned lip,"

"OH! Let me kiss it better!"

After a heavy make-out session that lasted well into when they SHOULD have been in their first day of classes with enormous amounts of heavy petting and soft strokes, dilligent and insistent carresses and moaning, loving, touching, sucking, biting, nipping, licking...

"Did you really... well, do all that with Dom and Josh and..."

"Oh my, yes. I'm afraid that Sean Asteroid didn't go for the Master/Gardener roleplay I suggested, so Dom just filled in for him. Now THAT, THAT was great..."

"OH!" Nasus cried, pulling Hajile in for another long and gorgeous...

MEANWHILE, in the office of Dumbbilder

"Wait... WHO ARE YOU?"

Trent turned in his swivelled chair to face Ybbuh dramatically. "Who I am isn't impor-"

"HOLY SHIT! You're Trent Ronzer!"

"Urm... yea. Yea, I am. Now then, let me explain-"

"DUDE! I went to your concert in '95, the one you toured with Machete on! My friend J met you at UMass when you practiced at the Mullins center, do you remember him? MAN, and hey, your brother, he lives in the town over from us! I SWORE I saw you at the Food Mart when I was doing a cash drop at the bank for where I worked-"

"LOOK. What do you fucking want?"

"Oh. Well... my wife has completely betrayed me by sleeping with Mr. BoyToy Hajile freakin' Wood. Can I switch houses?"

"Hmm," Trent said, rubbing his chin. "It's a rare thing to do such things. After all, Grifindore is a wonderful house. But... I think I can make an exception,"

Ybbuh sighed in relief. "Where am I to go?" he asked.

"Sliteren."

* * *

"Whose side are you really on?" Eiram asked. 

"I've been on Dumbledore's side since we recorded _Dark Lord Superstar_ at Trent's old studio in New Orleans," said Twiggy. "I worked for him from the inside as long as I could, but eventually Pogo started wondering whether I was really spending as much time with Dave Neverland, and later with Josh Bonhomie (he's an Auror, by the way), as I claimed I was, and Voldemort began making it difficult for me to leave his side. I managed to convince him that I would be of more service to him if I left his band, but he became mistrustful again when I joined Trent's. Fortunately his records have been such crap since I left that I was able to persuade him that I remained his servant by offering to secretly start writing his music again, but that Kappa-Mu-Phi-Delta-Mu guy Skuelld keeps whispering in his ear, and so I am constantly having to prove my loyalty. As I did today."

"So..." said Eiram, "how do _I_ fit into all of this?

"Well, you are Dumbledore's daughter. Potter will need you. Only he can destroy Voldemort in the final battle, but he is a headstrong boy and has no mature voice to prevent him from suicidal heroics, especially now that Hermione has become a Gothgrrl. It would be too much of a distraction for her if Trent were to guide him, and Merlin knows he won't listen to me, nor can I stomach the little beast, but you, I think, he might respond to. He was very, very attached to your father."

"So you showed up at my door and pretended to be in LOVE with me just to lure me into some crazy Wizarding war between the Teens for Trent and Marianne Manson!"

"Eiram, no!" Twiggy cried. "The moment I saw you in London, with your frizzy hair and mascara running all over your face... I didn't even know who you were, then. I thought I would never see you again."

He reached for her, but she stepped back.

"Tell me something," she said. "Did you really sleep with Courtward Loveless?"

* * *

Ybbuh received a great welcome from his new Slitriny friends. They'd all become quite attached to Mr. Melon, and had taught him things he'd not ever been exposed to in the two years of his life. Ybbuh was treated to a fine show of tricks, surprisingly with a small wand Mr. Melon had. As Mr. Melon giggled at the books he tossed around the room with a flick of his 5 3/4 inches Willow with a Teddy Bear hair in the core, Ybbuh sighed. "I didn't buy a wand, I don't even know where to get one," 

"I can help you with THAT."

Ybbuh looked to his right, finding a blond boy sneering down on him. "Hey... you're Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Yea. And you're the poor sod who's wife left you for that prat, Hajile Wood," Malfoy said with a scowl. He looked to the hearth, glowing with evil Slithrine fire. "That Wood. I'd marry Potter if it meant I'd never have to come across 'North' ever again. Did I ever tell you how just that ONE FILM ruined my life?"

"Er... well, seeing as I'd just met you..."

"Came across it while flipping channels on the telly. Cor, what absolute rubbish! Then it's like everyone forgets about it all when he's some cutesy little hobbit,"

"Yea, I know. I fell for it too. Y'now he fucked like, half the cast?" Ybbuh said with a snarl; good LORD, already he was lying and being deceitful. AWESOME!

"Really?" Malfoy said. Ybbuh chuckled.

"Anyways, what was that about a wand?"

Malfoy looked from side to side to see if anyone was watching. "Commad," he hissed to Ybbuh. Ybbuh followed him down an eerie corridor of the Sletheren dungeon, liking the darkness. He was becoming a child of the night. Malfoy stopped in front of a coffin lined with dead black roses and opened it and pulled out an uber speshul secret evil Slytrin wand. "See? This wand is uber super speshul secret evil. It's totally evil and stuff. See if it works for you."

The moment the wand touched Ybbuh's hand, his skin seemed to glow with black flames. Malfoy smiled. "Yea. It's so you."

MEANWHILE

"Late?"

Hajile and Nasus looked up at the strangely dressed teacher. "We're sorry... er...Professor Twig..."

"That's Professor. TWIGGY, if you don't mind."

Already they were off to a bad start! Hajile took hold of one of Nasus' hands underneath the long desk. Hermione saw this from her seat behind them and glared holes into Nasus' back.

* * *

Eiram had gotten no sleep. She had had to read the introductory chapters in each of the textbooks assigned to the classes she would be teaching that day. Twiggy had waited for her to get through them all, working out the main riff for Voldemort's song on an acoustic guitar as she read, pausing to walk her through the spells she would have to demonstrate. Then, instead of breakfast, he had helped her workshop lesson plans for the day. 

As her first group of students--Hufflepuffs if she had remembered the House colors correctly--filed in, sleep deprivation overwhelmed her and she forgot to bother worrying that she knew exactly no magic. She had, after all, given totally extemporized lectures through the entire summer she had taught Mythology.

"Good morning," she said, as the students took their seats. "I am Professor Dumbledore."

It was fortunate that Trent, Minerva, and Twiggy had all warned her of the reaction this would cause. She waited for the collective gasp to die down, glad for the few minutes of class time it took up.

"We shall begin today with what might seem an unlikely source of Dark Magic," she said, and held up a compact disc. "Who can tell me what this is?"

About ten students raised their hands. From what she had learned the previous night, she expected these students were Muggleborn, and perhaps some were Half-Bloods. She nodded at a girl in the corner.

"It's called a CD," said the girl. "Muggles store music on them. By means of a Muggle device called a CD-player, they are made to reproduce the music."

"Very good, twenty points. And does anyone recognize this CD in particular?"

"It's a Muggle band called Good Charlotte," said the boy she had nodded to next. "They're very popular with Muggle girls our age."

"Have you ever heard them?" Eiram asked.

"Well, yes," he said. "They're kind of awful."

"Exactly," she said. "But catchy, yes?"

"Yes, yes, they are."

"Why do you suppose that is? Since they are awful."

"Is there some hex recorded along with the music?" asked the boy.

"Fifty points," said Eiram. "Now who can tell me what would be the purpose of hexing Muggle music?"

* * *

It had become quite apparent to anyone watching that Hajile and Nasus were completely inseperable. They had been put together in every class, as if by some miracle, they were given the chance to spend any moment of every day together. They were so going to fail, but it didn't matter. 

They walked into the big place where everyone eats for lunch, both of them very hungry. That day the lunch was roast beef and ham, chicken pot pie, vegetable soup, enormous rolls with butter, chicken, steamed baby carrots, spinach quiche, potato puffs, chicken nuggets, salmon, mashed potatoes, baby corn, pork fried rice, chocolate pudding, buffalo wings, watermelon, au gratin potatoes, chili con carne, pickled herring, peanut butter cups and orange mocha frappachinos.

"Come now my little hobbit! Open wiiiide," Nasus cooed, spoon feeding Hajile some chili. Like a baby bird he raised his open mouth to her and ate her offering. As she giggled, Hermione plopped her plate down hard on the table.

"That's just totally SICK." she said. "Gag me! I think Hajile is MORE than able to feed himself!"

"Actually, I'm not." Hajile said; he picked up his glass of frappachino and raised it to his lips. It suddenly dipped too much to the left and spilled onto his shoulder, causing him to jump up and run out of the dining commons crying.

"You total goth bitch!" Nasus screamed loudly at Hermione. "He's very sensitive about his lack of focussing on close things!"

"I didn't know-" Hermione cried out; Nasus didn't care as she ran down to the double doors and left the place she was eating in. She whipped her head to the left and gasped.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were there, surrounding Hajile near a painting of a dancing nun. "HEY!" Nasus called out, running over. "What's going on?"

Malfoy ignored her presence and poked a stiff finger into Hajile's shoulder. "Listen NORTH-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Hajile yelled; he actually sounded pretty foreboding. The frappachino incident must have set something off, along with being called such a vicious name. Malfoy recovered from his shock at being yelled at and continued taunting him, making Hajile keep yelling. Malfoy lifted a fist and aimed for Hajile; for whatever reason, Nasus suddenly yelled:

"MONKLADIOSO!"

Suddenly out of absolutely nowhere, Malfoy broke into song. It was more like a chant, really; low and strong, continuing into unintelligible phrases and sounds. Everyone stared upon him, then to Nasus.

"NASUS!" Hajile cried. "You can do WANDLESS MAGIC!"

* * *

Eiram was ravenously hungry, but it was nevertheless an effort to keep from dropping off into her plate. She was vaguely aware of several of the students staring at the teachers' table and could, every now and then, hear her last name rise from the general chatter filling the Great Hall, provided by the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws she had taught that morning. Trent had sent a note to Moody asking him to delay introducing either her or Twiggy until dinner that evening, and for that she was grateful. She did not think she could stand up without collapsing. Thankfully she had the two hours following lunch free, and Minerva had promised to send an owl to make sure she woke in time for her next class. 

Twiggy was not in much better shape than she was, but it was less obvious under his heavy white makeup. Trent had, luckily, been slightly off the mark regarding Hermione's recognition of him. She had, of course, recognized him straightaway, he said, but he was just the bass player so she really didn't care, although she did comment on his resuming Twiggyness after spending the last several years in pants. He had docked Gryffindor thirty points for her attention to his wardrobe.

Eiram swayed in her chair. Twiggy moved closer to help prop her up. She leaned against his shoulder as unobtrusively as possible. She really was not sure she would make it through lunch.

A bit of a ruckus at the Gryffindor table caught her attention, however, and brought her back into consciousness. A boy rose and ran out of the hall, leaving a weeping Hermione and a furious...woman?

"Minerva," she said, "Isn't that Gryffindor a little..._old_ for a student?"

"She's one of the new American transfers," said Minerva. "Well, less _transfer_ really, than _non-traditional_ students. No one is quite certain what they are doing here, but they arrived on the Hogwarts Express and the Sorting Hat Sorted them. There are also a gentleman of the same age and a toddler who was Sorted into Slytherin."

"And the boy who ran out of the Hall?" asked Eiram.

"A Hobbit from Middle Earth, I believe," Minerva said. "He is, in fact, an adult as well, but it's difficult to tell if you aren't familiar with their folk."

"Miss Granger is quite taken with the Hobbit," said Twiggy. "Rather more than is healthy given that the Hobbit and the new woman would appear to be...involved. However, this does prevent her from looking too closely at me during class and possibly realizing that the differences between the former Potions professor and his replacement are superficial."

"I don't think you have much to worry about, Sever--" McGonagall pursed her lips. "Twiggy, that is. Miss Granger is not, so far as I can tell, realizing anything at the moment except her hormones."

* * *

"I'll get that... that LADY back for what she did!" Draco yelled as Nasus' speshul wandless spell was wearing off. Every now and again he'd be forced into doing some sort of Benediction, but Goyle would dutifully clamp his hand over Draco's mouth to keep him from embarrassing himself. Sometimes. 

"What's going on?" Ybbuh asked, coming in from the bedrooms to sit next to the fire.

"Ahmidoeesrequieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemmmm..."

"Huh?"

"What?" Goyle looked up from stuffing his face with a bowl of cream of wheat. "OH! Draco, I'm sorry-"

"You useless lump!" Draco insulted, standing up. He then whirled on his heels to Ybbuh. "That... WIFE of yours! She cursed me with some spell that makes me sing like a monk!"

Ybbuh was stunned to say the least. "But... how? She doesn't even have a wand, let alone how to use one-"

"She didn't NEED one! She cursed me with a WANDLESS SPELL! Urisonarequieeeeeeeeeemmmmm..."

"Huh? Oh, right, the monk thing, I get- WAIT, WHAT? A wandless spell!" Ybbuh suddenly cried out.

"Yoú're saying you didn't know?"

"I didn't!"

Malfoy surveryed him a moment then sighed. "Fine. I'll believe you-THIS time. But if you're hiding anything else from me..."

Ybbuh swallowed as Draco made threats, getting interrupted by the occasional monkish outburst. There WERE a few things he knew; things they'd never even told hers or his parents. Things that could... stun the entire magical world...


	2. Eiram

_"Eiram!"_

He had come for her after all. He had actually flown across the ocean to Germany, and--thank goodness for his lock-picking hobby--gotten into her apartment! They would get married and get a rabbit! And--

Oh god, how long _had_ it been since she had last bathed? And the apartment was a sordid mess; it could hardly have been much worse if she'd been peeing on newspapers in the corner--

And then there was the toilet.

Fuck.

Should she shoot out of bed without warning and make a beeline for the bathroom? Should she feign sleep for the rest of her life?

_"Eiram, wake up,"_ he whispered.

If only she could Petrify him, Scourgify herself, the apartment, and especially the toilet, put on some coffee, and then convince him somehow, when he came to, that everything had been clean and sparkling like that when he'd walked in. She had no idea how to Obliviate, but, then again, it was quite probable he would hardly be able to process such changes in scenery and scent, and he might very well attribute his initial impressions to jetlag, rather than think too much about it…

Was her wand on the nightstand?

Wait. Her _wand_. Right. Go to Plan B.

She didn't have a Plan B.

_"Eiram,"_ he whispered again.

He didn't _sound_ horribly disgusted. Maybe he didn't care? He _had_ flown all the way from the States… And, really, if he _hadn't_ taken one look and flown right back, there was hope that he didn't think it was _that_ bad…

She liked Plan A better. If only.

Alas. She would explain that she had been working so monomaniacally on her Horace paper that she had forgotten basic concepts like cleanliness, eating, sleeping at night; nothing to do with _him_ of course. He was not keen on drama or depression; she would not want him to suspect she had been dramatically depressed. Just a little obsessed with research. That, he could appreciate.

But she would have to brush her teeth before she said _anything_. Her mouth tasted like…

Freshly-pressed pumpkin juice?

"Eiram," he said quietly.

It wasn't him. It was Twiggy, and her cheek was just about to slide off his shoulder. She drew her head up with some effort.

"We're at Hogwarts," she said.

"Why don't you go get some rest?" said Minerva. "I won't forget the owl."

"I don't remember how to get back to my room," Eiram said.

"I'll take you," said Twiggy.

"Perhaps it would be best," Minerva said, "if I escort Eiram, myself. It might prove disadvantageous were the students, particularly Potter, to speculate that there might exist between you a not-entirely professional relationship which predates your arrival here."

"Your pardon, Minerva; you are entirely correct. I, too, am in need of some rest."

"_I'll_ take her," said Moody, leaning behind Minerva. "She's meant to be my long-lost daughter, isn't she? Look suspicious indeed if she's following everyone around the castle _except_ me."

With that, he whisked her from her seat and ushered her from the table. They did not speak until they reached her door.

"Best let me have a look around," he said. "I checked it for Dark magic before you got in last night, but I didn't know you'd met Voldemort on the way. He might have planted something on you. You can't be too safe."

Eiram nodded dumbly and opened the door.

"What is _that_?" he barked. He rushed to the bed and carefully picked up a parchment scroll. He peered at it with one eye. Eiram thought she heard a whirring sound. "Oh," he said. "It's a note for you."

He returned and handed it to her. She opened it.

_Dear Eiram,_

_Please come to my office straightaway. Bring Moody._

_Yours,  
__Trent_


	3. Secong Author

(Author note: It's supposed to be second, not secong. I don't even know how that happened. It can't even be classed as a frikkin' typo.)

Ybbuh was concerned; he had become a very popular person here in Sliterin, especially since he'd started a friendship with Malfoy. The hunger for power grew, and he wanted it; OH, he WANTED it. Slithriyn was evil, it truly was. No redeeming qualities about it. At all. He should have been forewarned after reading many fanfictions with Nasus, where every Sltitrin was teh ebul.

Nasus… oh dear God, how he hated her. More of the ebul. He hadn't known hatred until he had found them, tangled in the bed sheets shamelessly. Now it was only amplified by the ebul surrounding him. He now sat at the fireplace, staring into the golden, orange flames, reminding him of applesauce. He didn't know why.

"Well that's over!"

Ybbuh looked over at Draco, now coming out of the bedroom hallways. He carried a large sack. "I'm going to go out and GET that North git! You coming?"

"YEA." Ybbuh said.

"Just don't tell your son," Draco snarled out. "He's not possessed by the ebul yet, and wouldn't join me. He's conjuring up special potions instead. Quite good at it really,"

"I'd rather he wasn't involved anyways," Ybbuh said, a snarling smile showing off his ebul teeth.

Meanwhile, Hajile and Nasus were back in their private room, talking about the amazing spell Nasus had cast. Nasus was sticking her pinky in her ear, as she much loved to scratch them. A little TOO much.

"Darling…" Hajile said, moving her waxy fingers from her head. "I don't know how you did that, but… but you saved me from those AWFUL Slethenins! They are the ebul!"

"I don't know how I did it either!" Nasus snapped, standing up and pacing. She was nervous; she had hoped that in coming to Hogwarts, she could escape the rumors and odd things that would happen around her back home. Everyone talked about her; from the trailer park residents peeking in their windows to coworkers shushing when she'd come into the room, she couldn't take it. By morning tomorrow, everyone was bound to hear of the odd spell casting she'd accomplished.

"Are you all right?" Hajile asked. She sighed with great woe, staring up at the glowing green nebula that was their ceiling.

"No… Hajile?"

"Yes?"

"I… I am about to tell you something that I've told- no one. Just Ybbuh, but now that he's joined up with the ebul of Sltherin, I…" she went to say, eyes welling with tears. "I need someone. Someone who loves me that… that I can trust,"

Hajile stood, shaking his head slowly and taking her still grubby hands. "You can tell me ANYTHING."

"Do you promise not to say a word? No matter- what it is I tell you?"

He now kissed the acrid smelling fingers, one by one. "My word is gold,"

"All right," she started. Sighing shakily, she took out a small vial from her pocket. "This… is a gift I'd gotten. Years ago, I'd been… wandering around in the woods on a camping trip. I'd gotten lost, and swore I'd never make it back. Suddenly, I saw a rabbit with his foot in a trap,"

"That's AWFUL!" Hajile cried. "I HATE hunting!"

"Well... I don't mind it. I don't agree with traps though, so I went over to help the tiny, poor creature. I got her freed and the next thing I knew, she wasn't a rabbit anymore, but a faerie princess."

Hajile gasped, covering his mouth with one hand. "Oh my goodness!" he cried; Nasus nodded, taking a deep breath.

"She told me that she was waiting for a pure heart to come and save her." She explained. "I didn't quite… GET it, really. I mean, a pure heart to save her, that would take a ribcage being opened and- "

"Go on, Nasus, please," Hajile pleaded.

"All right, anyways… she granted me the abilities of all faeries. I… I didn't know what they'd be, but she said I would find out," Nasus said. "She opened a bag full of faerie dust and sprinkled it over me. I felt lighter than air and realized… I was flying,"

Hajile's eyes widened at this tale. "No!" he said in disbelief.

"Hajile, my love… if you don't believe me… I will show you,"

Hajile swallowed as Nasus took a step back. Suddenly from out of nowhere, beautiful angelic wings suddenly unfolded from skin behind her; Hajile gasped as she began fluttering them open; her hair then got tangled in the end feathers. "Oh… ow," she exclaimed, trying to crane her neck as she pulled at the hair. Hajile swallowed and walked forward, trying to help. For a few awkward moments with Nasus getting mixed up with "lefts and rights" ("No, I said left, darling! Turn your head to the left!") they struggled, until finally she came free and the wings spread out entirely.

"Nasus…" Hajile muttered in shock. "You're so beautiful. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I cannot believe I've been graced with the idea of being with you. I am the luckiest man alive."

"No… I'm a freak,"

"NEVER SAY THAT!" Hajile suddenly yelled. "No! Don't ever! I love you the way you are, and now you're simply MORE beautiful!"

Nasus smiled shyly, turning her head away. "Well… this is only part of it. I think that my spell casting today is yet another attribute of my special powers." She explained. "You have to promise to never tell, Hajile. I'm trusted to tell those I trust; only you and Ybbuh know and… and I don't know if I can…" she said, starting to sniffle. As a long trail of sudden snot began crawling down to her upper lip she sobbed pathetically. "I can't trust Ybbuh anymore, and he knows! And he's in Slitheryne!"

Hajile took her face in her hands, staring at her mucousy, glittery face. "You can trust me, Nasus. Always. I vow to you that I will never tell your secret."

"We should go to that… um… place, Diagonal Alley to get wands, just so others don't start suspecting,"

"We'll do that," Hajile said. Unable to hold himself back he kissed her passionately, saliva and mucous mixing together in pure love and trust.


	4. Eiram and a Lot of Exposition

"We have to figure a few things out," said Trent, "and they are quite urgent, I am afraid."

"Mrmphkay," Eiram said, wondering if there were a spell to keep her eyes open.

"First of all, we need to explain what our Headmaster, who died at the end of last term and whose funeral was quite public, is doing alive and well and still Headmastering. We never quite figured that one out--and you of all people would be expected to know."

"Moreover," said her father's portrait, "Harry will most certainly persist in attempts to engage you in discussion about both my resurrection and what he would see as my posthumous failure to reestablish my own relationship with him."

"He can be a hypersensitive little prat when the turn takes him," added Moody. "As a rule, when his presence isn't required soon enough to suit his impatient teenage self, whether by the Order of the Phoenix or by the Headmaster, he immediately assumes he has been unjustly disregarded and takes offense. Touchy boy, really; must be hell on poor Weasley and Granger to be best friends with him."

"And he will surely expect that, so long as I am alive," the portrait said, "I should seek him out myself both to clarify the fact of my non-deadness and to continue our efforts to find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"But of course Potter would realize quickly enough that I am not Albus," said Moody, "so I must avoid direct contact with him."

"Why," Eiram began, then paused to sort out what she was asking, then forgot what she had wanted to know, then turned her gaze to one of the contraptions filling the office--one that happened to be set on a table in a direction away from the eyes of the two men and a portrait that were boring into her, then began to wonder what on earth the contraption was _for_ and why it wasn't weirder-looking. It appeared to be a punchbowl, which didn't really qualify as a contraption. However she doubted it was anything so harmless; nothing in this room was strictly decorative. "That thing is important, isn't it?" she asked, in an attempt to finish _some_ question, anyway, and nodded at the punchbowl.

_Merlin knows we've all been using a lot of that Pensieve lately, but how on earth would you know it without being told?_

"I didn't," she answered, turning to Trent. "A Pensieve?"

"My daughter is a Legilemens," said the portrait, smiling proudly. "Most excellent."

"A what?"

"You read somebody's mind," said Moody. "Probably Trent's, since I was still thinking about what a pain in the arse Harry's been."

"Come again?" she asked.

"I didn't speak aloud," said Trent. "But you heard me anyway. Legilemency. Twiggy's instantaneous and completely inexplicable attraction after catching a random glimpse of you in a sea of fishnet and black eyeliner at the Astoria--and picking you out again when you were squashed in the middle of a lot of big, bald German men at Columbiahalle becomes more than a happy accident. He too is a Legilemens. He must have been subconsciously drawn by recognition."

"By the same token, however," said the portrait, "we might conclude that my girl is also a natural Occlumens, as Twiggy did not, in fact, recognize Eiram, and only discovered her identity through quite mundane means."

"Well it's a good thing he was drawn enough to seek her out," Moody said, "since you died without telling us how to find her, and you didn't leave _that_ memory in the Pensieve."

"Of course I didn't," said the portrait.

"Occlumens?" asked Eiram.

"You can prevent your own thoughts from _being_ heard by a Legilemens," said Trent. "It's Twiggy's extraordinary Occlumency that permits him to serve as a double agent; yours must be at least equal to his, which is an incredible stroke of good fortune in light of the circumstances."

"Indeed," the portrait said. "Between both Voldemort and Harry, Eiram will have great need to Occlude."

For no special reason, this reminded Eiram of what she had meant to ask before she had been distracted by the Pensieve. "Why," she began again, "are we pretending you are alive at all, when it seems to be creating so many problems?"

"Well," said Trent, "mainly it's because the Second Author (who is really the First Author, because this was actually her idea and she started it, too) did not know that the Other Author had a post-_HBP_ time-frame in mind--it's not like either of them had any idea where this was going the day it all started. But in any case, it works out pretty conveniently for everyone, because it was a great blow to Voldemort's confidence to learn that his nemesis was still alive, and also it was a considered decision of the Order to have Harry remain at Hogwarts for seventh year after all, rather than strike out in search of Horcruxes without any real guidance. Hermione's newfound twittiness renders her incapable of providing the wise and mature perspective she would have, had she remained in character. But without Albus' presence here, there would have been no reason to expect Harry to return to school."

"Furthermore," said the portrait, "so long as Harry, and therefore Ron and, particularly, the new Hermione, _have_ returned, we were confronted with the difficulty inherent in having a Headmaster with whom Hermione is obsessed."

"So we generated the fiction that I am Albus and that Trent is my personal assistant, which allows him to remain behind the scenes and out of her reach most of the time," said Moody.

"Yet we were afraid to underestimate Hermione's ability to stalk," said Trent, "but the Hobbit has proven a worthy diversion."

"However," the portrait said, "our resolution for the Hermione problem leaves us with the problem, as you observed, of Harry."

"So what _do_ I tell him when he starts asking me about you?" Eiram asked.

The two men and the portrait responded with an array of expressions suggesting that this was, indeed, a conundrum.

"I think," said Moody, after a few moments, "you should just tell him it's none of his damn business."

"That's probably the best solution," Trent agreed.

"It is, in effect, what I always did when he asked questions I did not feel were ready for answers," said the portrait. "Couched in somewhat more delicate terms, however."

"All right, then," said Eiram. "Please, I _really_ need to get a _little_ sleep before my next class."

"I'm afraid we have some other problems to discuss as well," said Trent.

Eiram thought she might start weeping.


	5. Nasus and Secrets Revealed!

Harry, Ron and Hermione were bored; instead of just going to bed like they should have, Harry was busy telling the other two his suspicions.

"I swear to you… something is wrong. Dumbledore… or whoever he is…"

"Are we on this again, 'arry?" Ron groaned out. "There's absolutely nothing wrong! Dumbledore just… didn't die!"

"How can you SAY that? I watched him die, Ron! Snape killed him!" Harry said, frustration in his voice. "Hermione what do you think?"

Both Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who had headphones on and was busy putting on black eyeliner. Harry cleared his throat. "HERMIONE!" he yelled. This seemed to get her attention as she lifted her dark, spooky eyes to him. Pulling one earphone from her ear, she allowed the interruption of her favorite Evanescence song playing.

"What?"

"Do you think something is up with Dumbledore? Do you think he's who he says he is?" Harry asked. She shrugged.

"I dunno," she tossed off nonchalantly. "Why don't you go ask him if he's Dumbledore?"

"Cor," Ron spat out. "THERE'S a great idea. 'Excuse me, Dumbledore? Are you Dumbledore?'"

"I know what we can do," Harry said. "We can go to Nasus and Hajile,"

Even though Hermione had replaced her headphones to her ears, the name 'Hajile' came through loud and clear. "AreyouguystalkingaboutHajile?" she blubbered out in a rushed voice.

"Well yea. But I think you're off on this one, 'arry," Ron said, lifting a quirky eyebrow.

"Come on. Let's use my invisibility cloak,"

"We gotta find a way to sneak in there," Draco said, snarling at the door to Nasus and Hajile's common room.

"I know the password!" Ybbuh declared; he went to the door and cleared his throat. "Fizzgig!"

They stood for a moment; nothing happened however. "UGH! They must have changed it after you were transferred to Slitriyn!" Draco angrily said, gnashing his teeth ebully. "We've GOT to find a way in there! I don't care if I get sent to Azkaban for doing an Unforgivable! I MUST get back at that Hajile, AND that slut wife of yours!"

Ybbuh sighed, crossing his arms and staring at the door. "If only one of us had some sort of… armor, we could just plow right through!"

Draco turned to say something, but stopped abruptly; he stared with saucer like eyes at Ybbuh, his jaw dropped low. "YBBUH!" he cried, pointing a finger. "You never said you were an unregistered Animagus!"

"I'm a what? What are you… oh… OH MY GOD!"

It was true! Ybbuh was changing rapidly now, his skin hardening and turning leathery. "Draco…" he whispered. "What exactly is an Animagus?"

"It's someone who can turn into an animal at their will!" Draco said, his smile growing. "This is excellent! I'll bet you ANYTHING you can sneak in now… maybe you'll be a lizard… or a snake! Oh this is WICKED!"

Not knowing what was happening, Ybbuh waited… he felt himself growing smaller, but his chest and sides were widening, filling out with a swelling armor that wrapped around him. He ruled out being a snake now… perhaps a spider! How COOL that would be! Wait no, there were no hairs growing… the armor on his body became harder, crushing him slightly with its weight. He suddenly fell forward, catching himself with his … stumps?

"Hang on…?" Draco mumbled. Ybbuh's neck was extending now and his face tightening; what WAS he? He watched with shock as his stumps became clearly formed, with flat feet and tough skin. His back felt heavy for whatever reason, thinking he would move too slowly to keep up with Malfoy, because… oh for, wait…

"Ybbuh?" Draco cried, kneeling down. "Ybbuh… you're a huge… tortoise."

So he was. Ybbuh turned his head and went to say, "Holy Flying Crap!" but found instead that he wanted lettuce. Draco looked confused but thoughtful.

"Hmm… I have a plan. I'm going to knock on the portrait here, and you're going to sneak in.

'_Sneak in? I'm a feckin' TORTOISE!'_ he cried inside, yet still craved something salady. Draco stood up and knocked on the portrait; he then turned and ran full throttle down the hallway, leaving Ybbuh to just… stand there.

Oh NO! The portrait hole opened and there was Hajile! "Hello?" he said into the hallway. Ybbuh tried his best, making one step towards the opened hole. Hajile continued to look around, seemingly perplexed.

"Who is it, my love?" Ybbuh heard Nasus call out. Only a few more steps… there, the second step was taken…

"There's no one here," Hajile said.

"Well, leave it open, just in case they come back,"

"All right,"

Ybbuh couldn't believe it! Were they that stupid? '_Hahaha' _he thought. _'I'm going to sneak in! Malfoy will come back and I'll change into my human self and open the door! Then we will have our revenge!'_

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione were now walking towards Nasus and Hajile's room. Ybbuh turned his head, taking a total of seven seconds and found them in his sights. '_Oh NO! The Golden Trio is coming!'_ he frantically thought. Harry stopped in his tracks once he could see the gigantic tortoise crawling into the doorway. "What the…?"

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron yelled. "There's a giant tortoise in Hogwarts!"

Ybbuh's heart beat rapidly, even for an enormous turtle. Everything was moving in slow motion as Hajile stuck his head out the door. "Oh! Hi," he cheerfully greeted them. "Want to come in and have some ham sandwiches? We just made a whole bunch, I don't know why-"

"HAJILE!" Hermione yelped, rushing towards him. Ybbuh had just gotten within a foot of Hajile's ankles, and Hermione panicked. She threw herself into Hajile and cast them both inside. Nasus, sitting by the fireplace and cleaning her face from a giant wad of mustard that had spilled from her sandwich onto her cheek, jumped up. Finding Hermione on top of her lover, she screamed.

"YOU HORRIBLE BITCH!" she cried, lunging towards them. Hajile, completely and utterly confused, now noticed the tortoise.

"HOLY HELL!" he yelled, getting Hermione and himself a few feet away from the advancing tortoise. Harry and Ron clambered inside, tripping over the large shell of the tortoise.

"I'll go get Dumbldore; he'll know what to do!" Ron yelled, going to go back over the tortoise. Hajile grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't go near it!"

"Why not?" Ron cried out, panicking. Ybbuh had almost made it to the entrance, lifting one foot to the two inch risen space between the hall and room. This was gonna be hella hard to do…

Nasus, who had recovered from seeing that punked!Hermione lying on her beautiful lover's chest walked over. "Someone needs to climb over it and get Dumblrdore!" she yelled.

"His shell is too big! We won't be able to get over him!" Harry wailed. The five of them stood silent, their breaths coming out sharp and fast as the tortoise made his incredibly slow advance. Hajile then gasped and turned to Nasus.

"Nasus!" he cried, grabbing her shoulders. "There's only one way!"

"What? What do you… oh! NO, Hajile, NO!" Nasus yelled in horror.

"You HAVE to!"

"What are you guys yelling about?" Ron yelled. Nasus closed her eyes, a single tear falling on her cheek.

"Hajile, I CAN'T!" she wailed. "No one can know!"

"Nasus… my love," Hajile said, holding her close. "Please… for me. For our friends,"

Nasus became very quiet. She looked to the tortoise, now halfway over the small rise of wood in the door. He rocked back and forth, his enormous body swaying dangerously close inside. She had to… oh God, she had to… "All right," she said. She stood back; everyone watched on with confusion- until Hermione let out a loud cry.

"LOOK!" she yelled, even though everyone was most definitely looking, for Nasus' wings now emerged, spreading far and wide into the room. She reopened her teary eyes and gazed at Hajile.

"I know now what I must do," she said. She began flapping her wings, dust and sandwiches scattering in the air. Her body began to rise; everyone stared at her with shock and awe. Ron shook his head.

"I don't believe it!" he said.

"She's an angel!" Harry cried.

"She's so… so beautiful!" Hermione said, eyes tearing.

"She is…" Hajile said softly. Now in the middle of the air, suspended by white feathery wings, Nasus looked towards the door.

"I'll get help!" she yelled just before going headlong towards the door. Hajile suddenly realized that…

"WAIT! NASUS! YOUR WINGSPAN WON'T MAKE IT THROUGH THE-"

Nasus crashed into the doorway, her wings catching the frame of it violently. With a loud "OOF!" she collapsed onto the tortoise, knocked unconscious from the sudden crashing blow to her body. Everyone became shocked and scared, Nasus' body moving slightly from the tortoises' fight for freedom.

Harry then ran to the window. He flung it open and cried out into the night, "HEDWIG!" Suddenly from a tower way above, a small fluttering white thing came down. It landed on the sill, looking into the room. Perhaps one could not read emotions from a bird, but if anyone were to look at this graceful, nocturnal creature, they would see confusion and fear in its eyes.

Ron ran over with Hermione, while Hajile tried wrenching the incredibly awkwardly placed body of Nasus from the doorway. Harry scribbled hastily on a piece of paper:

"Dumlydorn: HELP! We're trapped in Hajile and Nasus' room, there's a giant tortoise trying to get in and Nasus tried flying with her wings but crashed and we're trapped LYK OMG HELP US!1111!

Harry Potter."

He tied the letter to the owl, and she flew swiftly away, hopefully to the correct destination… where a certain meeting was taking place, that no one, not one soul… knew about…


	6. Eiram and Problems Still Unresolved!

Eiram was sleeping in her chair again, but this time she sort of knew it. She could still hear Trent, Moody, and her father's portrait discussing what to do about a Head of House for Slytherin. A fourth voice she supposed was another of the portraits was providing much additional commentary, or rather, shooting down every suggestion they entertained. Twiggy was apparently the only former Slytherin on the staff, however it was risky enough that he had recovered his position as Potions Master; far too much to return him to responsibility for the students who had been most familiar with him. The fourth voice, however, refused to consider any alternatives.

"If Severus is the only Slytherin you've got, then Severus it must be."

"Please, Phineas, _Twiggy_. And it's impossible."

"I refuse to address him by that ridiculous name, Trent, and there are none present who do not know perfectly well who he is. Do you honestly believe that I would _choose_ Severus if there were any other choices to be had? The Half-Blood son of a Muggle buffoon to begin with, and _now_ he's wearing _skirts_--and warpaint that would make a Pict run and hide! But he remains a _Slytherin_ Half-Blood deviant and therefore the welfare of the House is his duty."

"My dear Phineas," said Dumbledore's portrait, "in times like these, as you know, we must, on occasion, set aside our personal priorities and seek extraordinary solutions to the difficulties with which we are faced."

"There is no difficulty, here, Albus," Phineas said. "Slytherin needs a Head of House, Severus is the sole Slytherin professor. Therefore Severus must recover his Headship."

"To do so would create unnecessary potential to compromise Twiggy's inscrutability," said Trent, decisively. "You may disagree on principle, Phineas, but at present it is more important that there be not the slightest suspicion that Twiggy is in fact Severus than that Slytherin have a Slytherin Head of House. Merlin knows nothing else at Hogwarts is particularly conventional this year."

"All the more reason the students need whatever stability can be provided them--_especially_ the Slytherins."

"Phineas, I remind you that you are no longer Headmaster."

"Nor are you, Albus," Phineas returned gamely. "Even if Moody runs around in your clothes pretending that you are."

"I, however, do not overestimate my authority, nor do I mistake the need for my fine proxy to be such. You and I, as do all the former Headmasters, serve the current. And you acknowledged Trent along with the rest of us, so you must ultimately accept his decision."

They went on. Eiram tuned them out. Her more immediate concern was that her ex had apparently picked the lock to the Headmaster's office (or figured out how to get past the gargoyles, at any rate, or climbed in the window--whatever; he was there, and she didn't much care how he got there. She was dreaming, anyway). She pretended she was paying attention to the Slytherin Head Problem, but really all she could think of was that he was hovering over her shoulder. She could feel his cool breath stirring in her hair.

At least now her hair was clean.

He seemed to be waiting for her to turn and face him, but she couldn't, or the men and the portraits would notice he was there, and that would create quite a fuss, since this was supposed to be quite a private meeting after all. But surely he realized that.

Very softly, he touched her cheek.

Very abruptly, he dropped into her lap and clutched at her knee with what felt like talons.

Her eyes flew open. He was clutching at her knee with talons. He was also a very large snowy owl. The owl looked at her meaningfully.

"Hello, Owl," she said. While owls weren't generally in the habit of dropping into her lap, animals did in general like her quite well, and she supposed in a setting that involved domesticated owls, this must not be terribly out of the ordinary. And the owl was gorgeous.

"Never seen her do _that_ before," said Moody, shattering whatever remained of the off-chance that the owl was her ex; if he had been an owl, it would have been a recent development. "She's usually drawing blood to get your attention."

The owl sidled further up Eiram's lap and pressed against her. Eiram almost automatically set her hand gently over the owl's shoulder, as she would have a cat in the same position.

"Hedwig is quite taken with you," her father's portrait said happily. "A good sign. She's Harry's owl, you know. Also she must have a letter for you or the gargoyles would not have let her in."

Oh. Right. Communication by owl. Minerva was going to send one to wake her up soon. Or maybe this was it. Sure enough, there was a scroll tied to Hedwig's leg. Eiram got it loose and unrolled it.

"For _fuck's_ sake," she said, having read the note.

"You see, Albus, what happens when you allow your children to be raised by a single Muggle?" said Phineas.

Eiram, trying not to dislodge the owl, who had tucked her head under her wing, reached across Trent's desk to pass him the note.

"Fucking _fuck_!" said Trent, upon reading it.

"Oh dear," said Phineas.

"Whatever is it?" asked Dumbledore.

Trent read the note aloud. The room was silent for a moment.

"What," said Moody, at last, "does one-thousand eleventy-one _mean_?"


	7. Eiram and, Now, an All New Problem!

Just then they heard someone coming up the stairwell. Moody leapt to his feet, wand at the ready. Trent set down the note from Harry and began paging through an appointment book.

"It's all right, Moody," he said. "The new Runes Master was scheduled to arrive today. That will be him."

"And a fine example _he'll_ set for the students, arriving _after_ term has started," said Phineas' portrait.

"There were some complications, Phineas," said Trent. "He had accepted a position elsewhere before I contacted him and was obliged to remain until he could be replaced. I assure you that he is most responsible. Moreover he is an outstanding scholar."

"Runes," Phineas sniffed. "Not good for much _except_ scholarship. He won't have been a Slytherin."

"He did not attend Hogwarts at all," said Trent, who was clearly trying not to smile. "Like pretty much all the OCs in this story, he was raised a Muggle. Excepting, perhaps, Hajile the Hobbit."

"Speaking of," said Moody, "aren't he and his lot in a bit of a fix at the moment--along with Potter and _his_ lot?"

"They'll figure it out," Trent said, shrugging. "It was all some poorly-planned scheme of Malfoy's anyway."

"Which never would have been executed were it not for Slytherin's lack of a proper Head of House," said Phineas.

"Enough, already," Trent told the portrait. "We shall address that as best we are able." He directed his gaze past Eiram to the entranceway and rose to his feet. "Good afternoon, Professor Black," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"_Black?_" said Phineas, his eyes narrowing.

_Black_, thought Eiram, her throat closing. _Still dreaming then._ Black was her ex-boyfriend's surname.

"Thank you, Professor Ronzer," said Professor Black, whose voice sounded just like her ex-boyfriend's.

She did not turn around.

"Please," Trent said. "Join us."

Trent indicated an empty chair on the other side of Moony, which made it rather easy for Eiram to not have to look at him. She shrank behind Moony's profile, so he would be unable to look at her, either, and carefully stared at the portraits as he entered the office and took his seat. Albus' portrait smiled benignly at her. Phineas, she noticed, was gaping in horror at the newcomer.

"_Black?_" the portrait repeated.

"Diogenes Black," said Trent.

Her ex-boyfriend, then. Unless there were another Diogenes Black with the same voice. She wished she would _stop_ dreaming about him. She was _supposed_ to be dreaming about Twiggy.

Maybe her subconscious was just clinging to the one bit of unreality in the universe that remained unreal. After the last couple of days, there was very little to call impossible anymore; she needed _some_ sort of stability.

"_BLACK?_" shrieked the portrait, jolting her out of her reverie.

For some reason, nothing seemed different, except that there was a long and rather uncomfortable silence.

"Black," Phineas finally said, again, with acute dignity, "as in the Noble and Most Pure House of?"

"Maybe it's best," said Trent. "if you check the tapestry at Grimmauld Place."

Phineas marched off, leaving his frame empty. He returned a few moments later with flared nostrils.

"Well, _of course_ he's _Sirius'_ son," he snapped. "since he couldn't just have the decency to be from some _other_ Black family."

"How could he be Sirius' son?" asked Moody. "He can't be more than five or six years younger than Sirius."

"There was a Wormhole behind that curtain at the Ministry," said Albus' portrait. "He fell through time and space to San Francisco in 1970 or so and decided to stay there and maintain a low profile, lest the temptation to attempt to change history overwhelm him and he make the situation even worse by interfering. Apparently Bellatrix' Killing Curse knocked some sense into him at last."

"So Sirius is alive and…and…_old_ and in California?" Moody's eye whirred madly. "Well, can't he come back to the Order now that he's dead here?"

"He's actually in Florida," said Diogenes. "Moved when he retired. But he's dead there, too; heart attack last month."

"Oh my god," said Eiram, startled into facing him. "Diogenes, I am so sorry."

"Eiram!" he said. "What are you...? How did you…?" He paused and shook his head. "You never told me you were a Witch."

"I only found out two days ago," she said. "You didn't tell me your father had died."

"Well how could I?" he said. "You would have _cared_ and it would have been really hard to pretend it didn't mean anything to me. His dying words were that I should not have let you go, and I didn't want to find out he was right. _He_ didn't tell me you were a Witch, either."

His dying words were _what_? Eiram had been unaware that Diogenes had even mentioned her existence to his parents.

"He did not tell you," said Albus, "because he was my Secret Keeper."

"You two know each other?" asked Trent.

Eiram decided to let Diogenes answer that one.

"We're friends," he said. "In Muggle Academia, we're in the same field of study, and it's a small world."

For the first time since Twiggy had knocked on her door, _something_ had failed to surprise her even a little bit. Merlin be praised. Or whatever.

Friends. Right.

"Oh, well that's a wonderful coincidence," said Trent, looking relieved.

"Your mother?" asked Phineas.

"She is coping remarkably well," said Diogenes. "Thank you."

"I meant, who _is_ she?" Phineas said, visibly bracing himself. "A Muggle?"

"Yes."

"She would _have_ to be, wouldn't she?" Phineas muttered, and wandered back out of frame.

"How will this affect Harry?" Moody asked abruptly.

"Well," said Trent, "actually, for a change, it's got nothing to do with Harry."

"How can that be?" Moody demanded. "It turns out Sirius has a legitimate blood-son; wouldn't he be heir to the Black estate?"

"If we plot out a timeline from Sirius' perspective," said Trent, "which I think we must, since the estate was his to bestow, Harry had already inherited it some two years before Diogenes was even conceived. The moment Sirius died the first time, it quite legally passed to Harry. There were no clauses specifying that it would return to Sirius should his life be unforeseeably restored, nor did he seek to recover the estate from Harry. He never wanted it, anyway, and he undoubtedly would not have wanted it for his own children."

"From what he told me of the estate, and of the family obsession with pure blood, in his last days," said Diogenes, "I am glad he did not."

He _would_ be glad, Eiram thought; it would have conflicted horribly enough with his social liberalism to discover he was the scion of a house that went by "Noble and Most Pure", but to discover that he was in possession of an _estate_, too? He probably would have given it to the custodians who cleaned the offices in his department.

"It has occurred to me," Phineas, reappearing in his portrait, said primly, "that my latest _descendant_ might resolve the issue of Slytherin's need for a Head of House to everyone's satisfaction. Or, at least, to an acceptable approximation thereof."

"Phineas," said Trent, "you have anticipated me. I believe that Diogenes would be most suitable for this role."

"Well, the Sorting Hat will determine that," said Phineas.

"The Sorting Hat…" said Trent, musing.

"An outstanding idea, Phineas," said Albus.

"But what if he's not sorted into Slytherin?" Moody asked.

"He may very well _not_ be," Phineas said, looking stern. "His father was, after all, a Gryffindor--and _he_ was a _Pureblood_ Black.

"Whatever House he would have been Sorted into, had he been a Hogwarts student," said Trent, "Diogenes is preferable to Twiggy as Head of Slytherin. And even if the Hat does find in him the qualities of a Gryffindor, it remains that since he never _was_ one, he comes with no biases thereby."

"Just put the Hat on him," said Phineas, "and we shall see. Perhaps I shall be pleasantly surprised."

Trent stood and reached for an ancient peaked hat on a shelf above his desk. The hat was battered and much-mended, except for a great rip near the brim. Trent walked behind Diogenes, gently set the Hat on his head, and stepped back.

Everyone watched. No one breathed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat.

"I am turning in my grave," said Phineas.

"His loyalty will serve him well as Head of House," said Trent.

_Loyalty_, Eiram wondered sadly, _to whom?_

"Absolutely not," said Phineas. "No, no, and _no_. You _cannot_ have a _Hufflepuff_ Head of Slytherin."

"Phineas, _please_," said Trent. "We _must_."

"You _must_ not," said the intransigent portrait. "What about _her_? Sort _her_."

"And if she proves a Hufflepuff as well?" asked Albus.

"She at least can be guided by Severus," Phineas said.

Eiram suddenly felt extremely unwell.

"But if Eiram were Head of Slytherin," said Trent, "Harry would be less likely to trust her."

"Nonsense," said Phineas. "She is Dumbledore's daughter. If anything, perhaps it would give that boy pause in his unreasonable hatred for Slytherin."

"An excellent point," said Albus.

"There are other considerations, however," said Trent. "And I would prefer that she _not_ have responsibility of a House. So let us compromise: if she does prove a Hufflepuff, too, then the Headship will go to her. If she proves otherwise, then to Diogenes."

"How is that a compromise?" asked Phineas. "How is that even a logical arrangement of conditions? If anything, you should be arguing that if she is a Hufflepuff, there is no particular reason to choose her over Diogenes, and therefore only should she be Sorted into one of the _other_ Houses would she be a more suitable Head of Slytherin."

"But I do not want her to be Head of Slytherin," Trent said, amicably, "and it's only out of respect for you that I'm providing an off-chance that she _could_ be."

"_You_ are most _assuredly_ a Slytherin," said Phineas.

"I, however, am Headmaster, and not an option," Trent said. "So let's get this over with."

With that, he removed the Sorting Hat from Diogenes and walked past Moody to Eiram. He placed the Hat on her head.

_Hmmm,_ said the Hat, privately, she gathered, as its voice was quite low, and no one around her was pricking their ears to make it out. _This is difficult indeed. By rights, you should really be a Gryffindor, but that House has degenerated so much lately that Godric himself would renounce it... But where else? Not Hufflepuff, anyway…_

While this was a relief, as she did not wish to be responsible for a House, she was somewhat put out by the implication that _she_ lacked loyalty. If anything, she was _too_ loyal to some who did not necessarily deserve it.

_Just so_, the Hat told her. _Your loyalty is thus more of a liability than a quality. But, setting that aside, I have only two words for you: _Twiggy_ and _Diogenes

Not _fair_, she thought at the Hat.

_Untrue,_ the Hat replied. _Fair is exactly what I am._

_Fine_, she thought. "_Not_ kind."

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted.

"Well, fuck," said Trent.

"Vindication is mine," said Phineas, cheerfully.

A new owl flew into the office and set down opposite Hedwig. It looked up at Eiram, a bit confused. She untied the scroll from its leg.

_Dear Eiram,_

_I do hope you have had some rest. Your next class begins in ten minutes._

_Yours,  
__Minerva_

The new owl followed Hedwig's example and went to sleep on Eiram's lap.

"Please, Headmaster," she said to Trent, "May I cancel Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the day?"

"Of course," he said. "Circumstances have forced upon us _new_ matters that we must discuss immediately."

She managed yet again not to weep, but tears did well in her eyes. The stinging would keep her awake, anyway.


	8. Draco SNEERS!

"A-HA!"

Everyone looked up at the door; Harry, Hermione and Ron froze as Hajile worked at putting an unconscious Nasus on the couch. There in the doorway standing over the mysterious tortoise was Draco Malfoy. His wand was pointed at the Golden Trio, a sneer upon his face. Harry stood on shaking legs. "YOU! I KNEW it!"

"Whatever, _Potty!_ Because of all you cowards, I'm in your common room and in control! NOW then…" Draco said, walking along the wall, making everyone cower away from him. His eyes were now set on Nasus. "Wait…" he muttered, blinking hard. "She… she has WINGS!"

"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" Hajile screeched, holding her close. Malfoy came out of his shock to sneer more.

"Well, well, well. It looks like my friend LIED about Nasus' uber speshul powas." He said. As if this story were completely formulated, using coincidences and horrible exposition as plot devices that didn't quite sit well with the reader on how to interpret, Ybbuh suddenly returned to his human form, the tortoise shell twisting away from view into nothing. "I'll let it slide this time,"

"I didn't TELL you because… because I was so ASHAMED of it!" Ybbuh yelled, pointing at Nasus. "She's a terrible, ugly freak!"

"How DARE you!" Hajile bellowed, standing up and going to Ybbuh. "You tell me why I shouldn't go "Kevin" on your arse!"

"Oh PLEASE, you had ropes and pulleys and stuff! You're as much a ninja as I'm a sandwich!" Ybbuh said, pointing to a squished ham sandwich on the floor.

"I can see your revulsion, Ybbuh. Just LOOK at her." Draco said. Sneering. "Nevertheless, we could use her powers against the good side. We can make her fly over muggles and drop dung bombs on them, or take her to Voldemort to torture her!"

"NOO!" Hajile cried; he saw no use in this. The ebul Slethrni would stop at NOTHING to further his ebul plans! Without thinking he flew over to Draco and dropped to his knees. "Take… take me instead. I cannot bear to have her subjected to awful meanies on the Dark Side!"

"NOO!" Hermione wailed; Harry grabbed her Hot Topic corset laces to hold her back from rushing at the scene ahead of them. Draco's eyes narrowed as he sneered. He looked from Hajile to Nasus a few moments.

"Fine. You'll do. That way… she'll come looking for you anyways. Ybbuh!"

Ybbuh ran over. "Yea?"

"Tie this ineffectual hobbit up. We're taking him to Sleteyrn to meet some…" Draco said, looking to Hajile with a sneer. "…Friends,"

"Do what you will! Just do NOT hurt Nasus!" he yelled as Ybbuh grabbed Hermione's CD player headphones then tied Hajile's wrists behind his back. Hajile panted with fear and hatred as he was drawn up to stand. Draco grabbed his chin and sneered.

"Oh yes. Our Master shall be pleased." He said with a sneer. Hajile flinched away, shooting Draco a murderous look.

"NO! Take ME instead!" Hermione suddenly yelled. Her waist was about the width of a hairpin now with the force of Harry's hold on her strings. Draco rolled his eyes as he backed out of the doorway, Ybbuh already having dragged Hajile away.

"Hermione, please. Getting to torture 'North' is MUCH more satisfying than messing with a Mudblood," he said, sneering.

He was now gone into the shadowy corridors, leaving behind a shocked Harry, a dumbfounded Ron, and a wheezing for sweet, sweet breath Hermione. "'Arry…" she strangled out. "Oo… can let go…"

"OH! Sorry!" Harry said, letting the ties of her cheaply constructed outfit go. And cheap was right; the fake leather came apart, leaving her in her studded bra. She gasped; Blaize Zamboni passed by in that moment and nodded approvingly as he looked inside.

"Yea, I'd do 'er," he stated. Harry went over and shut the portrait hole hard.

"All right. We HAVE to come up with a plan to rescue Hajile, hopefully before Nasus wakes up. She'll get completely wonky if she finds out Hajile's given himself up to the ebul Sylverins,"

"Mental." Ron said, staring at Hermione's breast-implanted rack.

Two hours later, they had nothing; Nasus was stirring on the couch, eyes fluttering open. "Wha…" she gasped, trying to look around. "Hajile? Hajile, where are you…?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. Harry coughed into his hand and walked over. "Nasus… I don't know how to tell you this…"

The smile on her face grew wide. "THERE you are, my sweet Hajile!"

Harry's eyes went wide, blinking profusely. "What… it's me, Harry Potter…"

"Oh STOP Hajile… everyone says that about you!"

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione, who were rolling their eyes. "What is she talking about?"

Ron sighed. "'Ave you read the rag-mags, Harry?"

"No."

"You two may as well be interchangeable." Hermione said. Her face brightened. "And yea… I can see it."

"Stop! We need to find out how to keep Nasus calm when she finds out that Draco kidnapped…" Harry went to say; he stopped mid-sentence. "Wait… if she thinks I'm Hajile…"

"PLEASE, Harry. If I hear her whine for her 'poor, downtrodden hobbit', I'll get sick," Hermione stated, scowling. Before anyone could say anything more, a knocking came from the portrait hole. Harry walked over and answered it.

"Urm… yes?"

"We received an owl," the mysterious woman said. "What exactly is going on?"

He resisted to the very core of him; he would NOT show weakness to these brutes! He pulled at the restraints holding him into the hard, wooden chair they'd force him to sit into. "You'll never be able to torture me! As long as Nasus is safe, that's ALL I need!" he cried just as one large boy fitted his ankles to the chair. Draco sneered, walking over to him.

"Wouldn't be so sure of that. I've got my ways," Draco said. He turned to the one named Goyle and sighed. "So. Which shall we go with? The dolphin-shagging pretty boy, or the Eskimo-Beaded Tribal Outfitted-Cowboy Moron?"

Goyle sniggered to himself; Hajile shook like a leaf now, looking up at Draco as he pointed his wand to a large screen at the front of the room. _"Flipperino,"_


	9. Hermione Explains!

Eiram waited for an answer. Harry, Ron, Hermione exchanged glances. The new Gryffindor, the adult, had sprouted wings, which looked rather the worse for wear, and was alternately weeping softly to herself and gazing in adoration at Harry.

He did look remarkably like the hobbit all of the sudden. And where _was_ the hobbit, anyway? Wasn't he a Gryffindor, too?

"Listen," she said. "You sent the note asking for help. I realize I'm a little late off the mark, but the...um...department meeting ran way over, and I couldn't get out of it."

"But," said Harry, "how did you get the note?"

"And who are you, anyway?" asked Ron.

"I am Professor Dumbledore," Eiram said. "You addressed the note to me."

"You're..." Harry gaped rather foolishly. "I don't understand."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Last we looked, Professor Dumbledore was a little older and maler than you."

"And _dead_," added Harry."

"He's not dead," Eiram lied. "He's just really busy."

"And female?" asked Ron. "When did that happen?"

"Ron," said Hermione, exasperatedly. "Don't you pay attention to _anything_? She isn't _that_ Professor Dumbledore. She's his daughter. And she's the new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

So Hermione had not, apparently, lost _all_ her sense along with her taste, Eiram thought. That was good. She hoped. "Ten points to Gryffindor," she said, hoping to encourage it. "Now someone please explain that note. And where is Hajile, anyway?"

The winged woman pointed lovingly at Harry.

"Well, you see, Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione in a very low voice, "that's the problem. Draco and a giant tortoise wormed their way in and...and..." She burst into tears.

"And?" asked Eiram.

Harry set his mouth grimly. _I will tell you nothing!_ she heard him think. _I am right about everything all the time, and I don't need any help from you!_

"But you _asked_ me for help, Harry," she said. "So stop being such a prat and tell me."

"Oh no!" Harry cried. "First _Snape_, now you, too?"

"_Professor_ Snape," she said.

"Professor _Murderous Traitor_," he said.

"Harry," said Ron, "Dumbledore's alive. So, well, don't you think that sort of means Snape couldn't have murdered him?"

"But I _saw_ it!" Harry insisted.

"You couldn't have, Harry," said Hermione. "But anyway what does it matter? Snape is gone and we have Professor Ramone for Potions now."

Eiram silently thanked Hermione and considered giving Gryffindor another ten points, but could not think of a way to justify it.

"Yeah, and _he's_ probably a Legilemens, too," said Harry mutinously.

"Does it matter?" asked Ron. "He's not even here."

"No, but _she_ is, and _she's_ a Legilemens."

"For the last time," said Eiram in her most teacherly voice. "Where. Is. Hajile?"

The winged woman pointed at Harry again and stars danced in her eyes.

"Oh Professor!" whispered Hermione urgently. "Draco and Ybbuh took him away! They dragged him off to the Slytherin dungeon, I'm sure of it!"

"Well, one way to find out," said Eiram, starting to turn away from the portrait hole.

"Er," said Ron, "what are you going to do? You can't just walk in and look around."

"I can, actually," said Eiram and disappeared.


	10. A new face of new ebul!

(A/N: So uh, hmm… yea, anyone know what the hell is happening?)

"_Flipper!"_

"_Flipper!"_

"_Flipper!"_

"STOP!" Hajile cried, trying to avert his eyes from the scene Draco repeated, over and over again. Draco sneered, looking over at him as he continued flicking his wand at the screen.

"Oh, but LOOK! You're so HAPPY that 'Flipper' is alive and well! All sleepy eyed, waking on the docks and STILL looking like a Hollywood pretty-boy!" Draco laughed out.

"PLEASE, just… stop, just STOP!" Hajile wailed, putting his head back. He'd tried- OH; he'd TRIED, but after the fiftieth repeat performance of him getting a wedgie by Paul Hoagie, he was losing his will to stay calm. He turned to glare at Malfoy, lip snarling up. "Why do you DO this to me? WHY!"

"Be-CAUSE, you lil' twit," Draco said, sneering down at him. He moved his sneer closer, bending by Hajile's ear. "Do you even know… the torture I'd endured watching this and 'North'… which reminds me, Goyle, we haven't put that on yet,"

Flipper disappeared from the screen, but a NEW terror ripped through him. He struggled with all his might, wrists and ankles burning from the coarse rope they'd used to bind him. "I've done GOOD movies! Movies you'd NEVER star in, you insolent brat!"

"Oh yes, 'Mr. Frodo Baggins'," Draco said in a high-pitched voice, causing guffaws from everyone there. Draco began prancing around the room, putting his sneer away to mock a great big goofy smile. "'Oh SAM, oh SAAAAM, my lovely gardener! Shag me all the way to Mulder!'"

"It's MORDOR, you idiot!" Hajile seethed out.

"'SAM, save me from the big meanie spider, I'm an ineffectual little hobbit who needs a spanking for treating my hobbit-lover so SHAMEFULLY! OHH!'"

As everyone laughed, Hajile growled, trying to pull free. Draco stopped his showing off and stood with his wand extended. "But we're not GOING to watch your silly epic performance. No, I think we should take ourselves back to the year 1994…"

Hajile froze, clenching his eyes shut; before Draco had the chance to yell the Unforgivable Movie Spell, the portrait door opened, hitting the wall next to it. Everyone turned, finding a very tired looking woman standing there, along with the Golden Trio. Draco sneered. "An' who's THIS? Saint Potty and his band of fools!"

"I'd stay silent, Malfoy," Eiram warned, but the effect was downed slightly by a heavy yawn. Regaining composure, she raised her wand to him. "Now free the hobbit."

Hajile groaned. "I'm NOT… good GOD, am I so typecast, I'm a halfling in real life?" he cried. Eiram blinked in confusion.

"You're a hobbit. Deal," she said. Draco sneered and growled and spat, walking over to where Hajile was to untie him.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, anyways?" Draco said as Hajile rushed away from the group, hiding behind Eiram. Eiram held back another jaw-crushing yawn to make her announcement.

"I am Professor Dumbledrone, head of Sletry House." She said. She frowned… that wasn't right, but then again, someone else was voicing her at the moment. Oh well.

It had the same effect. Everyone quieted and exchanged confused, awed glances- all except Malfoy. "Doesn't matter to ME who you are. You're probably just some filthy MUDBLOOD like Granger!"

"That's ENOUGH!" Harry suddenly cried. Hajile couldn't place it, but he was angry as well. Both went to charge when Eiram put her arms out, holding them back.

"You're lucky she's here to stop me!" Hajile yelled, trying to get past Eiram's clenched fingers upon his t-shirt. "Just WAIT until I get you in Hogsmade, and I call all my friends to come kick your arse!"

"Oh, but one of your friends IS here, dear Hajile," Draco said, sneering. Everyone stilled as someone who'd been hidden in the shadows stood up.

"Hello, Hajile. We meet again."

Hajile's jaw dropped, his huge, gorgeous twinkling blue eyes widening more than normal. While a few looked away, feeling as if his gorgeous orbs of sapphire-beauty blinded them, Hajile shook his head. "But… you're…"

"A Slytherpop, Hajile. Just as I always knew I'd be,"

Eiram peered intently at the new young man presenting himself. "You're familiar." She said, voice slow, her eyes suddenly crossing. Fucking hell, sleep, when would it arrive? "Wait… you were in 'Virgin Suicides',"

"Indeed. I'd also starred in 'The Faculty'… with Hajile himself,"

Hajile breathed hard, not believing what he saw. "Josh… no…"

"Wait! Josh Hardknot?" Hermione cried out.

"At your service," Josh said, bowing slightly.


	11. Eiram Sets Things Straight!

Eiram shook her head sharply. She must have been asleep on her feet or something. Certainly she felt very odd, as though someone else had been controlling her. She did vaguely recall having seen _Virgin Suicides_, however, and also _The Faculty_, though she would not have actually recalled having seen them at all on her own.

Very strange, but what wasn't anymore? And when oh when would she ever be able to sleep?

She shook her head again and looked around to get her bearings. She wished she hadn't.

"What," she began, to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "are you doing here?"

The three exchanged glances. They did that a lot, she noticed. "Well," Hermione spoke up, "we thought--"

"Never mind," said Eiram. "Please just go back to Gryffindor Tower. Now."

"But--" said Harry.

"No."

"But--" said Ron.

"Not that either."

"But--" said Hermione.

Eiram pointed.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How are you supposed to argue when she knows what you're going to say before you say it?"

"One minute," Eiram said.

The three turned back, hopefully.

"Take Hajile with you."

"Okay!" said Hermione, her eyes aglow.

"But--" said Hajile.

"You have a tangled-enough web already," said Eiram.

"But--" said Josh.

"You're not even here," said Eiram, and he vanished into thin air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hajile stared for a few seconds at the place where Josh had been a moment before. Then they ran like hell. Eiram had only banished him to his dormitory, of course, but it had gotten rid of the Golden Trio Plus One, anyway. The Second Author would have killed her if she had cast him out of the story altogether.

"I will have you know, Professor Mudblood--" said Draco.

"I don't give a barking damn on a broomstick," said Eiram.

"Oh yeah?" said Draco, thrusting out his chest. "Say that to me now!" He yanked up his left sleeve, exposing a brand shaped like a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.

Ah the Dark Mark. Twiggy had one, too.

Eiram stepped very close to Draco and looked straight down at him. This was a laudable effect, really, as he was taller than she was. "I am certain you heard me," she said sweetly.

Draco's Dark Mark had suddenly sprouted a bag of Wavy Lays and a heart with a banner through it reading, _Potatoe!_

Draco screamed like a girl and dashed to the furthest corner of the chamber.

"So," Eiram said pleasantly. "I am Professor Dumbledore. I'm your new Head of House."

The Slytherins collectively gasped. Except for Mr. Melon. Mr. Melon clapped.

"For those of you who might have missed it," she continued, "I am also the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Presumably you all have a much better idea where my office is than I do, so, should you need to find me, you should probably do it either before or after class, or at mealtimes."

"Yay!" said Mr. Melon.

"Well, then," she said. "It's lovely to meet you, and I look forward to getting to know you all better. Oh--" she added, looking directly at Ybbuh, "I expect all of you to stay away from Gryffindor Tower in future. And any other dormitories that aren't this one." She smiled gently and left.

---------

Twiggy was waiting for her outside. So was Diogenes.


	12. Littlelateforexposition Hermione!

Hajile was still shaking, violently so back in his and Nasus' dormitory. Harry had sat him down, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Hajile… do you need anything…?"

"I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins I did it for the dolphins…"

"Right. I'll get the Ativan," Ron said, going into his hip pack and digging through various prescription bottles of all shapes and sizes. After about a three-minute search, he tossed one Harry's way. "'Ere ya are,"

"Ron… your name isn't 'Caroline Smythe'," Harry said, wary. Ron blinked, shrugging.

"Could be."

"Where's Nasus, anyways?" Hermione asked, taking up her mangled headphones and putting her music on as loud as she could. She wasn't very interested in getting her answer, but it came in the form of Nasus stepping out from the bedroom. She looked up and beamed.

"Hajile!" she cried, running over. Hajile wept, standing up, wanting nothing more than to take Nasus in his arms and kiss her wildly, let her know everything was all right, make love all night and forget about strange tribal wear…

Everyone gasped; Nasus ran past Hajile and his outstretched arms, slamming straight into Harry. Harry yelped, arms out as to not embrace her whatsoever. "Hajile! You've come back! I was so worried with the Sylterans and that strange woman and Dumberdang…"

"Nasus… no, it's me, Harry!"

Nasus stepped back, looking at him with a coy expression. "Now Hajile, you MUST stop listening to the press about how much you and Harry look alike. I mean, really…"

"Nasus?" Hajile whimpered pathetically. He put a hand on her shoulder and caressed it lightly. "Nasus… it's Hajile, I'm right here,"

She turned to face him; a look of absolute terror swam over her face. She jumped back, pointing a finger accusingly at him. "SANDY!" she screamed. "NO! Get him away from me!"

As Hajile recoiled in horror, Ron suddenly walked over in long strides; he took Nasus by the shoulders, extended her wings and threw her into the door. She fell on her back, knocked out once again. Ron huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "Enough of that rubbish."

"Do YOU need an Ativan, Ron?" Harry asked. Hajile ran over to the unconscious Nasus, crying piteously.

"My poor dear, beautiful darling!" he whined. Hermione gagged, putting her hand to her mouth. Ron rolled his eyes.

"When she wakes up, we won't be here. She'll take one look at cha and forget about Harry," he said.

"Since when have YOU gone to medical school!" Hajile spat back.

"ENOUGH!" Hermione suddenly yelled, throwing her headphones off. Everyone looked over and stared; not so much at the determined face she wore, but the fact that she was still walking around looking like a dominatrix. Her breasts glittered in their black-silver cups as she hissed out hot breaths. "NOW. We have many more matters to tend to… like… WHO IS this daughter-of-Dumbycorn, and WHY is Josh Hardknot here?"

Harry shook his head. "I dunno. I didn't SEE Josh at the Great Hall our first day,"

"He's bloody tall enough not to miss," Ron grumbled out, sitting on the plush couch. Hajile gathered Nasus in his arms, shuddering. Everyone took note of this. Harry raised his eyebrows, looking to Hajile with suspicion.

"Hajile? What's going on?"

Hajile looked up, biting his lip. "Back… when we filmed 'The Faculty'… he and I had… 'Relations'," he stammered out. "Nasus knew this; I'd NEVER hide anything from her. But believe me, I'd hide HER… from Josh,"

"Why?" Hermione asked. Hajile closed his eyes and curled into Nasus, a single tear falling from his eye.

"He could be so sweet… but others found out about our relationship. Someone on set discovered us and… took pictures. Called me, threatening that they'd them to every rag-mag they could," Hajile said through throaty tears. "I had to pay over $400,000 to him, and believe me… that was a deal. He could have gotten MUCH more from those scheming, ebul newspapers,"

"Well- I mean, how bad could those pictures have been?" Ron asked. Hajile looked up at him, a stony look on his face.

"We thought that the back rooms in the studio were private enough. Believe me. They're pretty…"

"Graphic?" Hermione piped up, her voice thick. Hajile shot her a look.

"Could… say." He said. Taking a deep breath he continued. "I told Josh we couldn't go on, even in total secrecy. He couldn't accept it… said he loved my bottom too much to let me go…"

"Stop. Please stop." Ron blurted. Hajile bit his lip.

"Anyways… he's sworn up and down he'd never want to see me with anyone else, ever again. When I was dating Dom Manowar, he just… showed up in New Zealand and… found us."

"Graphic?" Hermione asked again, her thighs rubbing together anxiously.

"Right… I think we have enough information. Josh has come to Hogwarts to be the jealous-ex," Harry stated. "You've had plenty of bum sex to last a lifetime…"

"'ARRY!" Ron yelled. Harry groaned loudly.

"WHAT? He HAS!"

"I have," Hajile said with a small shrug.

"So now, away from that…" Harry sighed out, much to Ron's relief. "We've got this… Eiram Dumberlore. The daughter we didn't know exists,"

"Right…" Ron mumbled, running his fingers over his mouth as if in deep thought. "She seems like a nutter. Did you notice the bags under her eyes?"

"Mmm, yea. Probably tired from her starting the Defense Against Dark Arts position," Harry said. "Anyone knowing the history of THAT class and the former teachers of it would most definitely crack,"

"And she's an legilimens to boot," Ron added. Harry scowled.

"HOW am I to go against the system with her prattling around in my head all the time? HOW am I to sneak about the castle late at night to discover oddly obvious clues, placed right in my path…"

"Oh… Nasus…"

Everyone looked over to Hajile, seeing Nasus stir in his lap. Her bleary eyes opened, staring up at Hajile. "Ha… jile?" she stuttered out. More tears flowed from Hajile's sky-blue orbs.

"Yes, my love. Yes, it's me," he replied. She smiled warmly, putting a bloody finger to his cheek.

"Oh, I've missed you." she murmured. Before she could nuzzle his soft, gorgeous pale column of a neck, her eyes fell on Harry. They went wide as she began howling. "SANDY! NOOO!"

"Cor, let's go," Ron said, leaving the dormitory with Hermione and Harry. Once outside and making SURE the portrait hole was closed, Hermione whirled around, eyes ablaze with wild wonder.

"I just remembered something!"

"What, what?"

"When I was helping Professor Twiggy in the Potions room yesterday afternoon, he'd said that he was low on the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion! He seemed REALLY worried about it, like there was someone that was going to use it for ebul purposes!" she explained. Both Ron's and Harry's jaws dropped.

"Crikey!" Ron said, nudging Harry. "Sort of like us in the Chamber of Secrets!"

"And the fake Mad-Eye Moody when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

"It all fits!" Hermione said. "Someone ELSE is using this plot point for their own ebul devices!"

Harry looked to Ron.

Ron looked to Harry.

"MALFOY!" they both exclaimed at the same time. Hermione rolled her eyes.


	13. Eiram and the Nü Order of the Phoenix

Eiram was too tired to believe in the tension she was sensing between the two men, and she felt it would be a bad job to ponder it. This was only the first time she had seen them together, anyway, and, as far as she knew, though she doubted what she knew meant anything anymore, it was the first time they had been together. Maybe they were simply taking each other's measure, and it had nothing to do with her.

After all, Diogenes had never liked Manson (and oh wouldn't he find a way to rub _that_ in, now), even when they had been good. He hadn't liked Seven Inch Staples after the first record, and he probably didn't like A Flawless Trapezoid, because he didn't like Implement. And since Twiggy had never been in Implement, there was no reason to suppose it was anything other than coincidence that Diogenes disliked every band that ever did have Twiggy in it, or that this might have borne any sort of relation to Twiggy's being--as Twiggy had himself noticed--among Eiram's LJ interests, even if Diogenes was perfectly aware of that, having put her onto LJ in the first place.

Twiggy had also mentioned something about the fool who had let her go, which he hadn't gotten from LJ (for goodness' sake, Diogenes was on her f-list and at least half the rest of her list was on his; filter-schmilter--she just didn't blog about anything more personal than getting inadvertently dry-humped by two thirds of the pit when SIS played Columbiahalle. Oh well, Twiggy _was_ a Legilimens; as Eiram's thoughts tended to wander to Diogenes exactly when her metaphoric guard was down, chances were she was not, in fact, occluding to any effect at such times, either. Like when she was asleep on Twiggy's shoulder at lunch. But it still didn't necessarily follow that Twiggy would resent Diogenes or anything.

She hoped she was occluding to effect at the moment.

Anyhow, it wasn't likely there really was any tension at all between them, and the seething hostility in the air was just her imagination, as were the sidelong glares that each shot at the other when they both stepped forward to help her out of the secret door from the Slytherin common room. Certainly it would be silly and self-serving to think that whatever staggeringly obvious element of egregious territorialism might possibly exist could have centered on her, even if she was picking up inexplicable images of them each pissing circles around her and getting some on the other's feet while he was at it.

"Please," she said, to change the subject, "tell me there isn't another meeting today."

"In five minutes," said Twiggy.

"In the Headmaster's office," said Diogenes.

"What happened to dinner?" she asked.

"Just ended," said Twiggy. "Everyone in the last couple of chapters missed it, too."

"So we came to get you," said Diogenes.

Eiram leaned heavily against the wall, then started to fall backwards as the secret door allowed her to pass. Twiggy and Diogenes rushed to catch her, grabbing her arms and appraising each other coldly as they righted her. It was just as well that neither of them let go, or she would have put her face in her hands and wept piteously. _Another_ meeting.

Somebody hated her, that much was clear.

"I don't think this one will be long," Twiggy said, sympathetically.

Surely Twiggy hoped not as devoutly as she did. His makeup was much the worse for wear and had given way entirely to the circles under his eyes. His dreadlocks drooped, and even the red strands looked dim and blurry.

"With any luck," added Diogenes.

Diogenes appeared to have missed as much sleep as she and Twiggy, which, if she thought on it, he probably had. He had flown from the States through Charles de Gaulle, where getting through the line at Passport Control had taken so long that he had missed his flight to Heathrow. The Immigration queue in London had taken even longer, his cat had been taken to quarantine, and his checked baggage, he discovered, had been sent from Paris to Bratislava. He had already been in transit twenty-seven hours by the time he boarded the Paddington Express, he had to wait till morning for service on the Underground to resume to get from Paddington Station to King's Cross, and then the Hogwarts Express had unaccountably been followed all the way to Scotland by a flock of garrulous ravens. And, if she knew Diogenes, he would have been up all night before his trip, expecting to sleep on the plane, which he had not been able to do; the entertainment system in coach had malfunctioned, the Children's Channel had taken over the public address system in the cabin, and Barney had sung about not sharing germs all the way across the Atlantic. The purple dinosaur had been joined at random choruses by the entire Akron chapter of the International Association of Tone-Deaf Children, who were on an excursion to Oslo to serenade migrating whales. Diogenes had been sitting next to one of their chaperones, who had confided that she planned to throw herself from a fjord as soon as she mailed a postcard home to her boyfriend, who wasn't actually her boyfriend, as they had only had sex once, when she had slipped GHB into his beer at a party, and he hadn't called her afterwards. She would show him. When Trent had asked after the journey, Diogenes had only been able to reply aloud, "It was..."

Eiram was but vaguely aware of their progress through the castle. She wondered idly how she had managed to find her way to the Slytherin dungeon on her own. Eventually they reached the entrance to Trent's rooms, which she would never have recognized, as one of the pair of stone gargoyles had been removed. The author had belatedly recalled that there was only supposed to be one there, and anyway the extraneous idiot had let Ybbuh in earlier, which was just a total dereliction of duty, and it deserved to be sacked.

"Vollmilch mit Krokant," said Twiggy (the password had been changed in case the redundant gargoyle was feeling vindictive).

The remaining gargoyle leapt aside and they stepped into the staircase, but this time it did not take them to Trent's office. They rode the spiral downward and arrived in a poorly-lit tunnel. A set of arrows indicated that the stage was to the right and the dressing rooms were to the left. Twiggy led them left. About a hundred yards later, they reached another staircase, an ordinary, un-escalatory staircase. They climbed three flights, then crossed the length of another long hallway, turned three left corners, and arrived in front of a doggie door. Set beside it, on a Barbie Scene Starbucks table with tiny Starbucks napkins wedged under one foot, was an airplane bottle of Absolut Elderberry. Printed carefully on a Virgin Air luggage tag were the words, "Drink Me."

They passed it around and abruptly shrank, Twiggy into a teacup poodle, Diogenes into an Italian greyhound. Eiram could not tell what breed she had become, but she hoped it was not Chihuahua. They climbed through the doggie door, then raced across a stretch of grass on a levee overlooking a sludgy river to the far end of another hall and an ordinary door marked Dressing Room A. Twiggy hooted three times like a barn owl.

Trent opened the door, beckoned them inside, and pointed them to a squishy couch near the bar. They clambered up, panting.

"_Rehominifico_," he said, waving his wand around them. They returned to their human forms so suddenly that the cushions beneath them collapsed and they dropped down to the frame. Twiggy and Diogenes tumbled into Eiram and it took a moment to disentangle their robes and limbs and hair. Eiram ended up with two wands, neither of them her own. Diogenes had a wand, but it was someone else's; hers was poking out of Twiggy's left boot.

They sorted out the wands, and set the spare on the coffee table in front of them.

"Oh, that's mine," said a young woman who was sitting on a couch opposite theirs.

She was wearing jeans and a Theseus & the Black Sails tee shirt, and had short pink hair.

_Now why didn't_ I _think of pink hair?_ Eiram thought.

"Wotcher Eiram," said the woman. "Your hair's gone pink! And you didn't even have to scrunch up your face to change it!"

"Er," said Eiram, examining the hair hanging over her shoulders, which had been starting to look rather like Twiggy's dreadlocks (it had been a long time since he had scourgified her, and she had spent most of the intervening hours twisting her hair in response to...well, to pretty much everything). It was, indeed, pink. She kind of liked it, but it was a bit late to be original. It returned to its ordinary hue without a fuss.

"Hmm," said Trent. "Try changing your nose."

She thought about wearing an elephant's trunk. It would be handy, as she could douse herself in cold water if she started drifting off again.

"Are you trying?" asked Trent.

"Yes," she said. "Any difference?"

"It looks a little straighter," said Diogenes. "It's pretty subtle, though."

"I was sort of going for blatant," she said. "And prehensile."

"And I think I accidentally reset it," said Twiggy. "When we changed back into humans, my elbow was about to slam right into her face, so I imperturbed it to keep from breaking anything. I was a little alarmed and I might have overcorrected."

"So not a true Metamorphmagus, then," said Trent. "Too bad, really; that might have come in useful. But in a pinch a Criniscolorismorphmagus could provide a diversion..."

"By the way," said the woman with the pink hair, "I'm Tonks, and this is Remus." She indicated the man sitting beside her.

"Remus Lupin?" cried Diogenes.

"You know Remus, too?" asked Moody, who was hovering near the fireplace.

"No," said Diogenes. "But he's my godfather."

"I am?" asked Remus.

"Sirius couldn't really tell you," said Trent, "since he was supposed to be dead, and he figured you had enough to worry about with the werewolf thing to bother you with the knowledge that he had actually just tripped through a hole in the plot."

"Well," Remus said. "Bellatrix' Killing Curse must have finally knocked some sense into him."

"Dumbledore's portrait said the same thing," said Moody, nodding. "But it was still risky making you Diogenes' godfather."

"Oh come on, Mad-Eye," said Trent. "Who else would Sirius have named godfather to his only-begotten son?"

"Does anyone else know?" asked Moody.

"My mother," said Diogenes. "But as she is mute and illiterate, I don't suppose she would give anything away."

"Bellatrix' Killing Curse must have knocked a _lot_ of sense into Sirius," said a fatherly-looking man with thinning red hair; he was seated on the couch to the right.

"Hopefully enough sense," said the motherly-looking red-headed woman beside him, "that _you_--" she looked pointedly at Diogenes, "aren't predisposed to carry on his hostility towards Twiggy. And _you_--" she looked pointedly at Twiggy, "aren't going to hold anything against Diogenes just because he's Sirius' son."

"We have nothing against each other," Twiggy said.

"Nothing at all," Diogenes said.

_Eiram_, they both thought.

"We like each other," Twiggy said.

"We have a lot in common," Diogenes said.

_Eiram_, they both thought.

"The both of ye might want to give Eiram a little room," said Hagrid, who was sitting by himself on the last couch. "Yer starting to crush her."

They respectively scooted a few inches in opposite directions, each measuring the exact distance the other left between himself and Eiram.

"We should get started," said Minerva, who was sitting on the couch with the red-haired couple. She succinctly introduced them as the Weasleys and pointed out Kingsley Shacklebolt standing beside the door to the bathroom.

"We need to discuss the status of the Order," Trent explained. "Headquarters is a problem, since the Secret Keeper died and there's no one to tell Eiram, Diogenes, or myself where it is. Also, obviously, we need a new Secret Keeper, and I'm not sure it should be me."

"Don't be ridiculous Trent," said Minerva. "The rest of us have to interact with the students at least occasionally. You're just a cipher who exists primarily to provide whatever connections happen to become necessary and you can't even leave your office ever again in case Hermione, who seems to have regained at least some of her native intelligence, follows you around and discovers that you're not _really_ Alastor's personal assistant."

"Oh, Merlin's teakettle," said Twiggy. "That reminds me, she was hanging around after Potions today. She was trying to sneak Amortentia ingredients from the store cupboard. Said she wanted to help clean up. I told her I had locked the cabinets because I heard there had been problems in the past with people making Polyjuice Potion on the sly. But she misunderstood, probably because she had _been_ one of those people, and thought I said someone _was_ at it again, and I couldn't correct her because she didn't say anything out loud."

"_Is_ anyone making Polyjuice Potion again?" asked Trent.

"Probably," said Twiggy. "But not with my supplies. I wish I could have told her something else, something that wouldn't get her thinking about disguises at all, but I was too mortified by the ideas she was entertaining about what she would do to whom with the Amortentia to come up with anything that hasn't happened already."

"Well, that's exactly why none of us used it this time around," said Moody. "Makeup and wardrobe for Twiggy, and Minerva's incredibly powerful and previously unheard-of transfiguration of appearance for me. And who knows? Maybe if Hermione's on the lookout for Polyjuice transformations, it will completely distract her from our own camouflaged identities."

"I hope so," said Twiggy. "but she stops being quite such a stupid cow when she takes off those headphones."

"I never would have expected Hermione to fall for hexed CDs," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh no," said Eiram. "If it's actually to our advantage that she has, maybe I shouldn't be teaching the students about that particular Dark Art."

"It'll be fine," Twiggy said. "Muggle electronics aren't supposed to work at Hogwarts, so even though everyone _knows_ she's got her Discman surgically implanted, and takes it for granted, it won't ever really sink in that she's playing CDs at all, let alone hexed CDs."

"But what about Hermione 'erself?" asked Hagrid. "That's exactly the sort of thing that she would be the one person in the whole place to figure out."

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley. "What if her batteries die and she can't listen for a while? How long before she throws off the hex?"

"The hex is self-perpetuating," said Eiram. "That's one of the things that makes the CDs so insidious. Once you succumb to it, you will never, ever believe a band could be mind-numbingly rotten unless Hot Topic stops selling its merchandise."

"It's why we had to get our swag on their shelves," said Trent, wrinkling his nose. "It was our only hope of preventing every suburban teenager with a bad attitude and a big allowance from becoming puppets of the Dark side. So long as the kids can buy SIS stickers at the mall, they will think we rule, too."

"Well then you'd better not take five years to get your next record out," said Minerva. "Or all hope is lost."

"We'd also better enchant Hermione's batteries," said Twiggy. "Even though she won't _accept_ that listening to My Chemical Romance makes her dumb as a box of rocks, she will still get smarter whenever she stops--the longer she stops, the smarter she will get, and that could be dangerous."

"I'll take care of it," said Tonks.

"Better let me," said Kingsley, gesturing at Tonks' shirt. "She knows you don't listen to her kind of music, so she won't think you're cool enough to be around anymore. She'll walk by like she doesn't see you and you won't have any time to get the spell off."

"True, that," Tonks said, frowning. "It's all you, then."

"I wonder..." said Mrs. Weasley. "Maybe you should Obliviate any ideas about Polyjuice Potion she might have? Just to be on the safe side?"

"Better not," said Remus. "We can't Magic away _all_ our problems. That would be too straightforward."

"We can't be havin' meetings all the time, either," said Hagrid. "What was this one about, again?"

"What to do about the Order," said Trent. "Headquarters, Secret Keeper, new members and their roles..."

"Right," said Hagrid. "Well, Headquarters is easy enough. This place didn't even exist till now and no one knows about it except us."

"But the entrance is a difficulty," said Remus. "With all the safeguards we've put on this room, it remains that it won't be much of a secret if anyone can see all the members of the Order going in and out of Trent's office."

"We could put an SEP field in the corridor," said Diogenes.

"A what?" asked Hagrid.

"Somebody Else's Problem," said Eiram. "The effect is pretty much the same as ignoring Hermione's CD player. Nobody would pay any attention to anyone who shouldn't be in the corridor."

_He shoots, Kindergoth,_ Diogenes thought at Twiggy. _He scores._

"I've got a copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ downstairs," said Twiggy, thinking at Diogenes, _He rebounds and sinks it from the three-point line, Badger Boy_. "Or wherever my room is in relation to this place. I'll look up the instructions."

Diogenes gave him a baleful scowl.

"Secret Keeper, then," said Minerva, quickly.

"I agree that it should be Trent," said Moody. "It can't be me; I'd be the first one they'd expect."

"Definitely Trent," said Remus.

"Well then, we'll do the Fidelius charm before we leave," said Trent. "And I think it best to include the truth about Dumbledore's death as a secret that can't be divulged."

"Oh, that's a good idea," said Mr. Weasley.

"One less thing for Twiggy and Eiram to have to not think about when Voldemort's around," agreed Tonks.

"Better make my participation privileged information, too," said Twiggy, "since Voldemort is under the impression that none of _you_ knows who I really am. Eiram is meant to be my proxy."

"Eiram, yes," said Trent. "I've been mulling it over, and I think it's a good thing after all that Eiram is Head of Slytherin. It fits the scheme."

"Even if Phineas was a right pain in the arse about it," muttered Moody.

"What about Diogenes?" asked Hagrid. "Maybe no one should know about his dad."

"That's wise," said Remus. "Harry's likely to be upset that Sirius never told him he was still alive."

"Not to mention jealous that Sirius had a real son," said Kingsley.

"Is there anything Harry doesn't take personally?" Eiram asked.

"No," said Twiggy, Trent, Tonks, Remus, Hagrid, Kingsley, Moody, Minerva, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Diogenes.

Eiram looked quizzically at Diogenes.

"Hermione turned in an essay the old Runes professor had assigned over the summer," he said. "Her title was, 'teh b0y Wh0 NeEdz 2 gEt 0vEr H1ms3lf'. Three rolls of parchment. I had not realized runes could be coerced into netspeak, but nevertheless she made the point."

"I think I am going to have trouble getting him to trust me," Eiram said. "From what I've seen so far, besides his general resistance to admitting anyone else might ever be right, the Slytherin thing, I believe, is going to be a problem."

"Oh, he'll be clinging to you for validation by next week," said Diogenes. "You're a walking study in codependence."

Twiggy started humming "Love is not Enough".

"I think that's it for tonight," said Trent. "Let's get that Fidelius charm going."


	14. The Wacky Mixup and Old loves Return!

Her head wrapped in bandages, Nasus entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, Hajile holding her at the shoulders gently to make sure she didn't steer off in some other direction. There was one moment that Hajile's hand had slipped, and Nasus almost went headlong into a large bowl of glazed carrots at the Ravinclow table. Hajile cried out and grabbed her, standing her straight again. "Oh my dear…" he murmured, kissing her ear. "I WISH it'd been me crashing into that door at 45 miles per hour… instead of you,"

Nasus sighed as she sat at the table, Hermione, Ron, and Harry sitting across. "Hi… guys. Sandwich thanks for trying to help us weed-whacker last night."

Harry frowned, looking to Hajile. Hajile groaned as he sat next to her. "It's a thing now… it should clear up after a few days, Madame Pomfry said."

"The pass bucket butter, please?" Nasus asked in a distant voice. Ron handed the butter to her slowly, wariness in his eyes. Nasus frowned. "No the bucket,"

"She means the juice pitcher," Hajile said, sounding strained. Hermione cleared her throat, looking between them as Ron poured the juice out for Nasus, looking scared.

"It must have been a rough night for you," she said, her voice soft and sympathetic. Hajile looked to her, glaring a little.

"Rough for me? Will you just LOOK at my poor darling?" he said, waving a hand to Nasus; she was busy stirring her juice with a sausage, humming 'Human Behaviour' by Bjork. "Do NOT sympathize with me! I stayed up all night to make sure she didn't drown herself in the toilet, and I'd do it ten more times in a ROW to make sure she was all right!"

"Okay… I get it," Hermione muttered, backing off a little. Hajile's eyes were red, the normal blue getting blurred in the contrast. "Well here," Hermione started, leaning forward and taking up Hajile's cup. "I made this fantastic energy elixir, you can put it right into your juice,"

Hajile groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'll have coffee instead. I'm going to need a straw though," he said, carefully pouring a steaming cup of joe for himself. Hermione bit her lip, eyes darting from side to side.

"I think… I think one fell on the floor," she blurted. As Hajile bent down she quickly leaned to his side of the table and dumped the remainder of her 'energy elixir' into his mug. She sat back quickly, looking to Harry and Ron who eyed her suspiciously. "What?" she said, going to eat her pancakes as uneventful as she could make it. While she waited, Nasus busied herself making a makeshift hat out of banana peels, telling Ron all about her clam dives she used to take off the coast of North Carolina. He nodded along, the most confused expression on his face. Harry tried his best to ignore all this, leaving Ron to deal with it all. He turned to Hermione and sighed.

"So… who do you think is trying to make the Polyjuice potion?"

"Well it's not DRACO, Harry. How is it every time something happens, it's always Draco? So far you've ALWAYS been proved wrong."

"But don't you think that the chances are good? After all, he helped kill Dumberding," Harry said, nodding to the front of the hall. Dumblystomp sat there, chowing on his bacon. Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"For goodness' sake, Harry…"

"Well, look 'o's all passed out on the floor, then!"

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked up, finding Draco standing over where Hajile had been sitting; only he wasn't sitting there at all. "Hajile?" Hermione said, panicking. His mug had remained untouched! No straw, no Hajile drinking, nothing!

"'E's passed out on the floor, 'E is!" Goyle chortled out.

"You'd think that he'd appreciate a cup of coffee proper," Draco said with a sneer. To Hermione's absolute horror, Draco picked up the mug and slugged it down in one gulp. "Ahh… the lil' pansy-boy likes it all sugared and creamed up; can't take it black I suppose,"

Hermione sat back down, her face turning three shades of purple. Harry noticed and leant into her. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"OI! North! On yer feet now!" Crabbe said, leaning down and punching Hajile in the arm.

"NO FLIPPER NO!" Hajile suddenly cried out, sitting straight up. Draco and his cronies sneered, chuckling and nudging each other. Draco then turned to Hermione, shaking his head.

"To think you go for this git! After all, you should be…" he went to say; he now paused. Hermione covered her face with her hands, mumbling in keening wails. "Are those… are those new robes, Hermione?"

Ron pried Nasus' hands from his hair as she professed to know everything to do with haircuts as her friend 'Sarah' back home did, only she was trying to shear his red locks with a hard-boiled egg. "Back off, Malfoy!" he warned. Draco didn't take any note of this. He pushed Hajile's legs from the bench and sat in his place, staring at Hermione intently.

"Oh… Hermione… Hermy…"

"Hermy?" both Ron and Harry spluttered out.

"I've never quite known just how… how your hair," he reached over, taking a strand. "It shines like sunshine, bees buzzing and flowers blooming in your loins…"

"HEY now! That's enough!" Ron yelled.

"Draco? Commad, we've got to go to Potions!" Crabbe said, trying to grab at Draco's shoulder. Draco flinched away, seething.

"Leave me alone! Can't you see, Hermy and I are OTP!"

"What the hell is that?" Harry blurted. Hermione let out a cry.

"One true pairing. I read about it in 'A Witch and Wizard's Guide to Online Fanfiction Speak'," she said dismally.

"Why is he doing this, though? He's ALWAYS…" Harry started but drifted off. He then looked to Hermione, eyes wide. "What did you put in that drink, Hermione?" he asked urgently.

"Um… nothing, really… just a small combo of, uhm…"

"You made that love potion, didn't you?' Harry groaned out. Hermione bit her lip as Draco began kissing her hand profusely.

Hajile was near death now; after a night without sleep, his head swirled and turned, making him dizzy and generally out of it. Transfiguration was just one huge mess; he really hadn't meant to turn Neville's frog Trevor into a stick, and honestly, couldn't figure out how. Professor MacQuickly rectified it of course, giving Hajile a stern gaze.

He was happy to have done with at the end of classes. All he could think on was getting into bed and forgetting everything. Nasus had been sent back into the hospital wing after she tried drinking an entire three gallons of water. As much as Hajile deeply and truly loved his nummymuffin, sleep was in order. As he rounded the corner leading to their dormitory, a hand suddenly reached out from the shadows and grasped his arm; with a yelp, Hajile's feet left the ground entirely- the strength of his abductor was familiar.

"JOSH!" he cried out, being pushed against the wall by his former lover; Josh's hand went over his mouth, looking back out into the lit hallway. "MMPH!"

"All right…" Josh said, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to the wide-eyed, scrumptious looking lad. "I haven't traveled all this way for nothing. I could care less about magic or crystal balls or whatever kinda crap goes on here. All I know is that I faked a Hogwarts letter inviting me here, I dunno how it got past Durmending, but it did. I came to claim you, just as it's supposed to BE, Casey,"

Hajile breathed hard; Josh's hand left his mouth and stared him down as Hajile fought for words. "Josh…"

"Zeke."

"FINE, Zeke- but MY name is Hajile, and you KNOW it."

The grin on Zeke's face was both ominous and playful. "Oh but Casey- how you used to _love_ it when I used to call you that. Hmmm? Remember?"

Memories of Hajile being tied to a row of lockers, kept in storage on the set of "The Faculty", 'Zeke' tearing his clothes off like a wild animal while yelling "You like this, don't you, kinky-Casey-boy?" flashed through his mind. "Go… no, we can't DO this anymore! Zeke, you're wasting your time-"

"Oh, 'Zeke'?" Josh said slowly, eyebrows raised in interest. Hajile realized his mistake and bit his lip. Josh put his hands to Hajile's cheek, smiling warmly. "Thought I wasn't your 'Zeke' anymore… Casey,"

Hajile shuddered. He tried so hard, so, sooo hard to think of his lovely Nasus, blubbering like an idiot in the hospital wi- NO! She was beautiful, majestic, her brain just pummeled into oblivion, just for a few days! "Ze… JOSH…"

"Mmm… you're such a contradiction,"

Before Hajile could respond, Josh grabbed his face and drew them together, his kiss heavy and passionate. Hajile whimpered, arms going limp at his sides, as he realized no; there was no way to resist. A single, silvery tear ran down his cheek, letting Josh take him over. So familiar, so ready… so painful and full of betrayal…


	15. To Sleep, Perchance

The Fidelius charm was complex, complicated to engage, and interrupted by the belated arrival of an Irish Setter who rehominified into Josh Bonhomie.

"Sorry, dude," he said. "Got arrested."

"Again?" asked Trent.

"This drunk-ass dwarf thought it'd be cool to pick a fight," he said. "So of course _I_ must be the bad guy, right? And all I did was hold the little fucker at arm's length while he tried to swing at me."

Eiram wondered what the dwarf could have been thinking. Josh was not Hagrid's size, but he was close enough. To a dwarf he might as well have _been_ Hagrid.

"Gawain must have given you some shit for that," Kingsley said.

"Oh no, he let me spend the night in lockdown," said Josh.

"I'd take Muggle jail over Gawain," said Tonks.

"Yeah," said Josh. "But _then_ he gave me shit. For, like, _hours_."

Tonks and Kingsley winced.

"When are you going to learn?" Josh mimicked a curmudgeonly Welsh accent. "This is the third time this year! I don't care about your cover, you're meant to be an Auror! Next time you get taken in, you use your phone call on your mates in Princesses of the Happily Ever After Days and you better hope you can make a living on stoner rock and pub brawls because you'll be through at the Ministry!"

"Ah, that's bollocks, anyway," said Tonks.

"He knows he'd never sack you," Kingsley agreed.

"Nah," said Josh. "I'd make a better living on stoner rock, anyway, if I didn't have the day job. He'd hate that."

Josh was shortly introduced to Eiram and Diogenes and brought up to date. The Fidelius charm remained complex and complicated to engage, but there were no further interruptions and it was completed by midnight.

"Until Twiggy gets the corridor SEPed," said Trent, "it's probably better that everyone doesn't leave all at once, in case there are students roaming around when they shouldn't be."

"Or Filch is lurking in the corners to catch them," said Hagrid. "But if no one minds, I'll be off--I'm weaning an orphaned chimaera cub, you know, and she tends to burn up the curtains when she misses her ba-ba, the poor thing."

"Hagrid," said Josh. "Dude, _what_ are you doing with a chimaera? You _know_ their eggs are Class A Non-Tradable."

"She was already hatched when I found her!" Hagrid protested. "Sweet little dear was all alone and cryin' for her mummy--I couldn't just leave her."

"Come on, brah," Josh said. "You had to have smuggled her into the country. They're only native to a few places around the Mediterranean. It's not like I'm going to turn her in, but the DRCMC will have a friggin' cow if they find out, and the disposal committee _will_ send MacNair after her."

"And imagine if MacNair shows up and finds Witherwings, too," added Tonks. "He wouldn't even care if it really _wasn't_ Buckbeak."

"I'd show that MacNair what he can do with his axe if he ever comes creeping around my house again," said Hagrid. "Believe me."

"You might not have a house for him to creep around if you're going to keep a chimaera in it," said Kingsley.

"Really, Hagrid," said Minerva. "It's one thing to keep making pets of viciously dangerous beasts, but _must_ you insist on _flammable_ pets? Hasn't your house been burned down enough?"

"It wasn't any magical creature what burned down my house last time," said Hagrid. "And she's only a _baby_."

"That's all besides the point," Minerva said. "And your house won't be any less burned down just because she didn't _mean_ to do it. Can't you keep her in Grawp's cave?"

"He'd eat her," said Hagrid. "Look, I've got a couple of NEWT students this year; I'm gonna have 'em work with Crystal, help bring her up so she can survive, and then at the end of the year I'll..." Hagrid sniffed. "I'll take her back to Arezzo."

"You can't take her to Arezzo," said Trent. "Chimaerae are banned in Italy. They're banned everywhere outside Greece."

"Well, that's where I found her," said Hagrid. "She wouldn't be happy in Greece; it's not her home."

"She probably won't mind," said Remus. "She won't remember much of Italy, and she'll probably love Greece after growing up in the Scottish Highlands."

"Pah, Greece," Hagrid snorted. "There's nothing in Greece except hairy men, air pollution, and penises."

"That's just Athens," said Diogenes. "You wouldn't take her there, anyway."

"There are pretty little islands in the Aegean," said Eiram. "You could find her one of those."

"Maybe even a nice little uninhabited volcanic island of her very own," said Twiggy.

"But then she'd get lonely," said Hagrid.

"We'll work something out," said Trent. "But come on, I'll walk with you to the stairs."

Hagrid nodded glumly.

"Oh hey," Trent said to the others, "there are towels and stuff if you guys want to hang out in the hot tub. Just, whoever's last to leave, remember to turn it off or it'll be a sauna in here by our next meeting."

He ushered Hagrid out. Everyone else stretched and gravitated to the bar. Arranged neatly on the counter were a sandwich tray, a crudite tray, a fruit tray, a bowl filled with mini-Snickerses and mini-Twixes, an ice chest filled with assorted sodas and bottled water, and a box of corn starch. There were several family-sized bottles of hard liquor and the fridge was filled with juice and beer.

Eiram fixed a plate of celery and cantaloupe. She would have liked something with a few more carbohydrates in it, but the Catering elves would not have known she was vegetarian, and had only provided cold cuts. Diogenes handed her a shot of tequila, with a look that suggested it was in her best interest. He glanced at her plate and tapped it with his wand. A white-cheddar-on-grilled-sourdough appeared. He walked over to Remus and Tonks before she could thank him and straightaway fell into animated conversation with them.

"Hey!" said Josh, coming up beside her with Twiggy. "I _did_ see her when we played Columbiahalle. Got a pretty nasty elbow in the throat from the big guy right in front of me."

Eiram nodded. She'd had the bruise for weeks. She'd also been punctured several times by the railroad spikes that passed for facial piercings with the crowd filling that pit. It had probably been the most violent show she'd ever been to, until a month or so later, when Seven Inch Staples had played the same venue. She had promised herself that she would watch from the balcony, and she should have. Someone had leapt from it and landed on her instead.

She wondered if Maynard were going to turn up next.

A phone booth fell from the ceiling and crashed through the coffee table. It was impossible to tell who was in it through the dense cloud of smoke within, but this dissipated when the door slid open and revealed a couple of men in jeans and flannels, neither of whom were Maynard Ivory Wayans, though they were about his age.

"Dude!" said the short blond man. "We got backstage again!"

"Most excellent!" said the tall dark-haired man.

They laughed and did sort of a high-five, low-five, pinky-link thing. "Party!" they cried, and stepped towards the bar.

A cloud of flies descended from the hole in the ceiling and deposited a third man on top of the phone booth. He wasn't Maynard, either. He was Studebaker Hoch (he came with an caption box that identified him and disappeared), and he was wearing briefs, aluminum-foil wings, and about a gallon of Aunt Jemima syrup.

He tried to stand up, hit his head on the ceiling, and fell off the phone booth.

"God _damn_ it," he said. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you two to stay the fuck out of my fucking phone booth?"

"Dude," said the dark-haired man to the blond. "We're so busted."

"In," said Studebaker. "Now."

They hung their heads and slunk back into the phone booth.

"Sorry," said Studebaker. "Fucking Bill and Ted. It just _had_ to be a fucking phone booth..."

He stormed into it after them and beckoned the flies to follow. When they were all inside, he closed the door and the phone booth rose shakily back into the air, wobbled a bit, then shot up through the hole in the ceiling.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"_Reparo_," said Minerva firmly, pointing her wand at the coffee table, which rebuilt itself.

"Yeah," said Remus, pointing his wand at the ceiling. "_Reparo_."

"I think I'd better get going," said Kingsley. "Have to stop in at the Ministry before I go to the office tomorrow."

"I'll go with you," said Tonks. "I have to be in early, too."

Remus glanced from her to Diogenes.

"Oh, it's all right," said Tonks, cheerfully. "Catch up a bit with your godson."

"I'll see her home," said Kingsley. "Don't worry."

"I'll go, then, too," said Moody. "I'm ready for bed. Be sure to stagger yourselves in twos or threes at least fifteen minutes apart."

_Another fifteen minutes, then_, though Eiram, who had been about to ask Moody to guide her to her room. She sighed. With luck, Minerva would be in the next group to leave.

Moody, Tonks and Kingsley swept out. The Weasleys went into the next room to get the hot tub going. Remus and Diogenes sat down with a bottle of whiskey. Eiram remained standing near the bar, still holding her plate and her shot of tequila, with Josh and Twiggy. Minerva joined them.

"No early morning for you?" she asked Josh.

"Oh gods, no," he said. "Gawain won't want to see my face for at least another month, and that suits me just fine. I'm giving Molly and Arthur exactly fifteen minutes alone, and then I'm hitting the hot tub with the coldest beer in that ice chest. You in?"

"Oh no," Minerva said, fighting back a smile and losing. "I'm leaving as soon as those fifteen minutes are up."

_Yay!_ thought Eiram.

"Come on, Kitty," Josh said, batting his eyes.

"Stop that, Joshua," she said, sternly. "I have classes to teach in the morning."

"So does Twigs, and he's not going anywhere. Come on, you know you want to. Eiram, what about you?"

"Not me," she said. "I'll be clinging to Minerva's sleeve all the way to my room."

"See, Kitty," said Josh. "You have to stay. Don't you want to see my new tartan boxers?"

"As much as I would like to," she said. "No. And don't _Kitty_ me."

"_Kit_-ty," he said, rubbing his cheek along hers.

"_No_," she said, blushing. She slapped him on the shoulder, but not very hard.

Twiggy caught Eiram's eyes and leaned his head very slightly towards the other side of the room. She nodded just as slightly, and they quietly eased themselves away from the bar and towards the fireplace.

"He thinks he's playing around," said Twiggy. "But he's totally in love with her. One of these days she's going to give in, and he won't know what hit him."

Eiram could see that. She could also see that the day might not be long in coming.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Is it fifteen minutes, yet?"

"Aw," he said. "You're really not going to hang out with Josh and me? And the Weasleys?"

"I can't," she said. "I'm not even on autopilot anymore. I'm starting to hallucinate."

"No, no," he said. "The telephone booth thing really happened. And Minerva and Josh really are flirting."

"I didn't even mean that," said Eiram. "I meant your dress and your tights keep changing colors."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I guess they aren't really doing that."

"I can't believe you aren't dead on your feet, too," she said.

"I am," he said. "But I've had a lot of practice. Anyway I haven't seen Josh since we were on tour together."

Eiram nodded. She would have liked to seen them when PotHEAD opened for SIS, but that had only been on a leg through the US.

"So are you going to tell me about Diogenes?" he asked.

"There's nothing to tell," she said. "Nothing you don't already somehow know. He broke up with me, I wasn't happy about it, and you saw the state I was in a couple days ago."

"And now he's here, which puts a little damper on my hopes of making you forget about him."

Eiram didn't answer. It was, however, one thing to have a rock star she'd always had a little rock star crush on show up at the door just as she was falling apart over the long-distance ex-boyfriend she had wanted to marry and have rabbits with, and another thing altogether to find herself living in a castle with both of them. Given the circumstances, it would be beyond the realm even of parody to just suddenly be in love with someone she scarcely knew and never pine for the one she had never wanted to lose.

But that line of thinking was getting too serious, so the rest of the fifteen minutes flew by, and Minerva announced that she was leaving and shook Josh's arm off her shoulder. Diogenes, who had dozed off on the couch, started and shook his head.

"Ooh," he said. "I think I have to call it a night, too," he said.

"And me," Eiram said, before Remus could beat her to it. Both Diogenes and Twiggy frowned at her. "Please, Twiggy," she whispered to him. "It's got nothing to do with him."

Twiggy nodded acquiescence, but also very deliberately closed off his mind. He had not been absently projecting before that, so the conscious control over his thoughts told her clearly that he didn't really believe her.

She was too tired to hassle with it. She said goodnight and met Minerva and Diogenes at the door.

Diogenes thought it had to do with him, too, which she thought was amazingly unfair, as she had planned to leave in the next group before she had any idea he would do the same. He stayed on the other side of Minerva all the way to Eiram's room, which was the first they reached.

_I didn't plan that, either,_ she thought as clearly as she could in Diogenes' direction. "Goodnight," she said. "Thank you, Minerva. I swear one of these days I'll figure out how to get here on my own."

She picked up an image of Diogenes guiding her through the halls. Diogenes himself narrowed his eyes and stepped a little further away from her.

_Great,_ she thought.

"It's no trouble," said Minerva. "I believe in the entire history of Hogwarts, only Fred and George Weasley have been able to find their way everywhere in this castle without a map. Sleep well."

Eiram slipped inside gratefully and went directly to bed without so much as taking off her boots. She might have been asleep before her head reached the pillow.

---------

She woke, feeling unreasonably warm. This was most likely because someone had drawn a quilt over her, and the quilt was held tight by the men lying on top of it to either side of her. She was facing Twiggy; her head was on his shoulder, and his other arm was draped across her waist. She was fairly sure it was Josh behind her, and sleeping on her hair, because he wasn't snoring, and Diogenes did. Also he just felt really _big_, and Diogenes wasn't much taller than her and he was rather slight.

She sat up hurriedly.

It was Josh. He didn't stir. Twiggy did, however.

"Mmrph," he mmrphed, glancing around and determining that it was still dark. "We don't have to get up, yet, do we?"

"Twiggy," she whispered. "Why are you and Josh in my bed?"

"Er," he said. "We're not. We're in my bed."

"How much did you two drink last night?" she asked.

"Well, a lot," he told her. "But this is still my bed."

"Then what am I doing in it?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, sitting up, himself, "but you looked so exhausted we didn't want to wake you. We figured we'd just go camp in your room, but the door wouldn't open for us, so we decided the time-honored tradition of sleeping on top of the covers would have to do."

Josh rolled over, rolled back, then shot to his feet, his wand appearing out of nowhere. "Oh," he said shyly, noticing Eiram and Twiggy watching him. "Hey Eiram. Whatcha doing in Twiggy's room?"

"I thought it was my room," she said.

"Aw, dude," he said. "This is nowhere near your room. You're up a few flights and way the hell on the other side. There aren't even any secret shortcuts between here and there."

"Um," she said. "Well unless I walked in my sleep, this is where Minerva brought me."

Josh laughed and laughed. "No fucking way," he said, finally. "But that explains it. Oh, Kitty, you are _mine_, now."

"Dude," said Twiggy. "You going to elaborate on that?"

"I whispered in Minerva's ear just before she took off that if I only had a good excuse not to crash on your floor, I would sneak up to her room as soon as you went to bed."

Eiram and Twiggy said nothing.

"Hell of an excuse, too," Josh continued. "To tell the truth, I can't believe I missed it. But it never occurred to me that she would actually want me to..." He looked thoughtful. He peered at his watch. "Hah," he said. "It's not even two, yet." Without another word, he left.

Eiram and Twiggy looked at each other.

"I'm going back to sleep," she said.

"Do you want to get up for breakfast?" he asked, reaching for a wind-up alarm clock.

"Fuck breakfast," she said. "I don't want to be awake one minute sooner than it takes me to get from here to my classroom."

"I'll scourgify you in the morning," he said, tapping the clockface just below the 8.

"You have to show me that one," she murmured, laying herself down and drawing the quilt to her chin.

"Okay," he said, replacing the clock on the night stand and sliding back next to her. "You could put your head on my shoulder again," he said.

She did. It had been very comfortable. It still was. She closed her eyes and counted two thirds of a sheep.

* * *

**Disclaimer**: The character Studebaker Hoch, his phone booth, and his flies were introduced in "Billy the Mountain", and therefore belong to the estate of Frank Zappa. Bill and Ted belong to whoever was responsible for that _Excellent Adventure_ movie and its sequel. 


	16. Mixed Messages & a Sudden Halloween!

Harry was moping again. He'd HAD it with all this rubbish; Dumringdun being alive, something he could NOT accept; the new headmaster of Sluterun, _Professor _Dinkerdeedoo getting in his head and listening to EVERY thought... and if Hermione didn't stop playing that freakin' 'Good Charlotte' CD, Harry was gonna go Death Eater on her.

Ron had been listening with her, saying that he really liked it. It was an incredibly odd eventuality, seeing as he'd NEVER taken to Muggle music. He said he was just going to go down and read 'The Daily Prophet', but ended up sitting with her instead, a dopey smile on his face.

NOTHING could be explained at this point. Both his 'allies' were becoming brainwashed morons; he had NO one to rely on... wait.

Harry sighed, seeing Hajile walking up the stairs in a rush. "Hajile!" he said; ah, finally someone with REASON! Upon approaching him however, Harry frowned.

"Um... um, um, y-yes, Harry?"

"What... happened to you?" Harry asked. His shirt was rumpled and unbuttoned, tie hanging all the way down to his waist wide open. Large red marks covered his neck and chest, his hair sticking out even more than Harry's ever did. He shook like a leaf as he attempted to put a casual smile on, looking more like a startled chipmunk.

"NOTHING!" he said, louder than he'd probably intended. The smile shook. "Nothing," he murmured. "I fell... down."

"You fell down?"

"You don't believe me!"

"No, no... I um... yea, I believe you," Harry mumbled, confused. Deciding to put this strangeness aside, Harry sighed deeply. "Hajile... have you noticed anything... anything Strange going on around here--"

"NO!" Hajile cried, the smile leaving entirely, replaced with a look of shock. "Nothing strange EVER happens! I wasn't even IN that hallway!"

Harry straightened, turning his head and staring at Hajile edgewise. "Hajile. Come on, what HAPPENED to you?"

Hajile's lips parted. "I... y'now, I was... then he, I was just... there wasn't... I'm so tired... I..." he stammered violently. Without warning he wailed, making Harry jump a mile. The portrait next to them, a jester getting hanged for "bad service" grumbled, body swaying from the rope.

"Simmer down!" he told them. Harry groaned and took Hajile's shoulder to lead him to his dormitory. Once there, Hajile took about ten times to mumble and stammer out the password. Once Harry got a hint on what it was, he rolled his eyes.

"Ginger button," he said. The door swung open, the portrait of a parrot upon it shrugging slightly.

"Can't open without password, sorry, make ya wait make ya wait, RAWWWRR!"

"Nevermind," Harry murmured to it as he walked inside behind Hajile. He crossed his arms after closing the door. "Now then; explain to me what's been going ON with you,"

Hajile flopped on the couch. "Oh HARRY! It was awful!" he moaned loudly. "I was JUST coming back from seeing my sugarnummypiemuffinsweetiepoof..."

"Nasus, got it, move along," Harry demanded impatiently.

"How was I to know Josh Hardknot was hiding in the shadowy corner to pounce upon me? To grab me up, toss me to the wall..." Hajile started; his pause made Harry's eyebrow raise, watching a shuddering smile try to form on Hajile's face. A hand went to his neck, rubbing a particularly large red mark. He moaned suddenly. "Kiss me... molest me, hold me close... lick upon every inch he could reach..."

"Hold on; Josh attacked you in the hall... and you liked it?"

Hajile's eyes went wide; another wail came forth. "Nooo! No, it was TERRIBLE! He's such a brute... such a..." Hajile said, eyes rolling around like super balls in a ten-pence grocery store dispenser. "So strong and wild... just like... when he'd taken me against the fence set filming our movie...:

"All right, I get the picture. But I NEED you to straighten up! Ron and Hermione are listening to 'Good Charlotte' in our common room, and I haven't a SOUL to work on these mysteries with! So shape up, I need your help,"

"All right... sure... yea..." Hajile blubbered.

"Think you can follow me to the Headmaster's quarters? I have my invisibility cloak with me, we can sneak in! I NEED to find out what's going on with this Eriam Dumblebee!" Harry asked.

"Where... where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The cloak,"

"It's invisible," Harry replied, blinking and shaking his head slightly. Hajile frowned.

"But in the movies, it's like this big velvet... thing," he replied.

"In the movies, that Badcliffe kid can't act to save his life," Harry spouted off. "Now COME ON,"

"Um... let me just... change... and bathe..."

"UGH, fine, fine," Harry said, watching Hajile scurry off to the washroom. He sat on the couch in a heap, groaning.

What was HAPPENING? So many questions went unanswered. He lamented in his thoughts, remembering Hermione's skills and knowledge, how she had ALWAYS been so willing to help. He couldn't have gotten through half the things he'd done without her. Now that she was a punkedout!goth!OOC!Hermione, she was just about as useful as a pin made out of jelly.

Ron, his meek but brave friend had fallen into SOME sort of trap. He knew it, he just KNEW it. Wanting his friend to return to his senses, Harry was in deep despair...

It sounded like Hajile was too, but of a different kind. Harry frowned and groaned as strings of 'OH Josh, Josh, JOSH...' rang out. He was loud.

_MEANWHILE..._

"Woooow... this is wicked, Hermione," Ron said.

"I know, it's WAY cool. 'Good Charlotte' is the best,"

Ron nodded stupidly, numbly. The lyrics of 'Let Me Go' played loudly off of Hermione's CD player as they sat in the common room like slugs.

_Let me go, Have some fun,  
Well my decision sucks to you,  
But I'm so young_

_Don't even try to figure out mysteries happening at Hogwarts._

Ron didn't act alarmed at the sudden change of the song. Hermione wasn't very concerned either. "They're top notch, the best," she mumbled. Ron nodded again.

"Yea! Wicked!"

_We'd hang out late and fight just trying to have fun  
We were such punk ass kids but we knew everyone  
And who could see through such blazed up bloodshot eyes,  
There was a plan for us one day we'd realize,_

_And it wasn't to find out anything going on_

_Become a gothy person and you might get to be a Death Eater_

_Cos' lyk, we're so cool and dark and stuff._

_Oh, and shop at Hot Topic a whole lot._

Ron frowned, remembering something... "Hey Hermione?"

"Ya?"

"Um..." he muttered, eyes blinking profusely. "Weren't we like... doing... something? Wasn't there some people we knew that needed... something?"

"Dunno what you're talking about Ron," she replied. Ron sighed.

"Yea... me neither. Wicked,"

_AN INEXPLICABLE TWO MONTHS LATER..._

It was Halloween. The sudden time shift allowed the writers to stop dragging on with every single minute detail of every single minute of this Hogwarts rubbish.

Harry and Hajile had been caught stepping three feet from the dormitory's portrait hole when Hajile started yelling, "WOW! IT'S SO COOL! We're INVISIBLE!" and got unmasked by Professor MacDunbungle, who just happened to be on a stroll nearby.

Meanwhile, Hermione had taken Ron to her closets to find some boy clothes he could wear; Hot Topic was now Ron's favorite shop, even though he hadn't set foot in the muggle store. Hermione and 'Good Charlotte' were convincing enough.

Harry was getting ready for the Halloween feast when Dean Thomas approached him. "'Arry... someone was waiting by the door for you, asked me to come get you," he said. He took out his magazine, 'Advice for Small, Barely Mentioned Characters Who Serve Only Background Voices to Support Heavier Roles' and sat down.

"Thanks, Dean," Harry said. Dean nodded, engrossed in his reading. Harry walked to the portrait hole and stepped outside. Looking to his right he frowned.

"Josh?"

Josh crossed his arms and nodded slowly. "We need to talk," he said mysteriously.


End file.
